Second Heir
by Bloodstained Comma
Summary: Ch 15 up. I thought to myself, with slightly raised eyebrows, that Tom had a rather bizarre definition of the word “interesting.” It wasn’t as though this surprised me. I had known Tom for more than five years. Not much surprised me anymore.
1. Prologue

_**Summary  
I discovered at the beginning of my sixth year that I wasn't the last heir of Slytherin. I also discovered that my good friend Tom Riddle wasn't joking when he said he planned to rid the world of impure blood. Muggleborns, halfbloods, and blood traitors were all going to be in mortal danger, and I was both too interested in what would happen and too afraid of Tom's ambition to stop him.**_

_Basically, this story is Timothy Gaunt (an OC from the Gaunt family in Hogwarts at the same time as our dear old Voldy) and Tom Riddle durring his transformation from an ambitious Slytherin teenager into the darkest wizard ever known to the wizarding world. It's in first person point of view, and this prologue is in a sort of autobiographical style -- the rest of the chapters will be in a first person story format with dialogue and stuff. The prologue is written as though Timothy Gaunt is writing about his life, from his childhood to his fifth year. Really short, but my regular chapters will be 3,000-4,000 words long, as usual._

_Most of the dates regarding Voldemort go by canon as much as possible, as they come from interviews with JK and facts from with links back to their original sources._

_There will probably be spoilers for EVERY HP book, including but not limited to DH - be forewarned._

* * *

I'm not going to bore you with my description of the years between the months of August 1927 and June 1943 – in other words, the years from my birth until the end of my fifth year at Hogwarts aren't particularly captivating. I suppose you would want to know a bit about me beforehand if you're taking the time to read this however. Background information is important. Without it, I'll take a dive headfirst into my story without you knowing anything, completely unprepared for what is ahead (or behind, for me).

Firstly, my name is Timothy Morfin Gaunt and I was born on August 3, 1927. My middle name, Morfin, was for my father. I still don't know the name of my grandfather, as I still haven't even met him. I didn't even know if he was alive at the time. I found a few years ago that he wasn't, but that isn't a story that will be told quite yet.

As I was saying, Morfin Gaunt was my father. The least I could say for him is that he was never particularly right in the head. He tried, and I respected him for that. My mother died when I was young and my father was quite the sociopath, so I had to fend for myself growing up for the most part. That was why I began learning magic when I was quite young. I was around five when I began experimenting with the powers I tended to exhibit whenever I was angry or particularly emotional about something, and managed to control it to a certain extent. Though I am a pureblood wizard and magic should seem completely normal to me, I have always found magic in itself to be one of the most fascinating subjects in existence. I don't understand how Muggles fend without it. I particularly found, as I still do, Legilimency and Occlumency quite fascinating; I began experimenting with those just before I entered Hogwarts.

In the year 1938, I found my way into Hogwarts. My father did something I never expected of him – he gave to me the ring that had belonged to my grandfather, as well as many of our ancestors. I knew how highly he regarded the ring and it amazed me that he was willing to give it up with such little thought. I saw myself to the Hogwarts Express on September 1, but he gave that to me just before I had left home by Floo Powder. It was on the Hogwarts Express that I met the boy that would become my greatest friend throughout my years at Hogwarts, my greatest ally in my years subsequent to Hogwarts, and my secret enemy in most recent times.

We became friends on the Hogwarts Express, which even to this day I find surprising. In school, Tom was never lacking when it came to "friends," but he never considered any of them truly to be friends; none but me, who he looked at as something like a brother. Whether it is a privilege or a curse is yet to be decided.

We were both sorted into Slytherin, strengthening our friendship more yet. I expected as much; my herritage wouldn't have allowed anything else. Tom, who had grown up in a Muggle orphanage, had no idea where he was going, but I knew from meeting him where he would be. He was ambitious and hated Muggles from his time at the orphanage – that was more than enough information for the Sorting Hat to have reason to put him there.

Tom never let anyone that wasn't in his close social circle know who he was. He treated every kindly enough. Many of the teachers at Hogwarts even described him as shy. I won't deny for a moment that I was the exact opposite. My own head of house despised me for my outspoken and, in general, _loud_ nature. I was the resident Gryffindor abhorrer. The only teacher who didn't seem to mind me was Albus Dumbledore, my Transfiguration professor. He didn't mind that I was outspoken, I mean – he gave me the most detentions of any other teacher for letting it be publicly known how much I despise Gryffindors. I can understand why, as he was a Gryffindor himself, but I thought it was cruel in those days.

My first through fifth years at Hogwarts were marked by Tom Riddle's own self-discovery. He began growing his powers in his third year beyond what he was learning in school. He bought books of hexes and curses. In turn for my teaching him Legilimency, he taught me the Control, Torture, and Killing Curse. He had only wanted to learn them then to show off at the time, using mice and bugs and things of that sort, as had I. Times change people, however, and the learning of those curses turned out to be an important milestone in our journey into the Dark Arts.

In our forth year, we made a discovery about each other that made secret communication quite a bit easier. We discovered we were both Parselmouths. If there was anything we needed to talk about that we didn't want anyone else knowing, it was easy enough to talk to each other in Parseltongue. He had been trying to keep it secret more than anything, as he had gotten the impression from his first meeting with Dumbledore that it was quite strange, even evil. I had just never thought about it. I never thought it to be that big of a deal, as my father was one as well, as had been the rest of our family through the ages.

In our fifth year, Tom was made a prefect. This surprised no one but Tom, who had never expected such a thing. With how he generally acted as a student, I'm amazed he found it surprising at all. He was a favorite student of Headmaster Armando Dippet, though Dumbledore, who would become headmaster in later years, was always suspicious of him. It was also in his fifth year that he got into anagrams. His name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, was soon transformed into "I Am Lord Voldemort." This began the "Knights of Walpurgis," what he began calling his "friends." I was still just a friend – he chose not to draft me as he had them. Because of my own stupid, childish choices, however, I myself chose to become one of his followers.

He changed his name upon discovering that his father was a Muggle, the very beings he hated. His father was Tom Riddle senior, and he was Tom Riddle junior. He hated bearing the same as his filthy Muggle father, and he wanted a name that would be both feared and respected when he left Hogwarts and set out on a journey to rule the wizarding world. He wasn't sorted into Slytherin for nothing – he was one of the most ambitious wizards I had ever heard of.

Our sixth year was the year things began to get a bit more fascinating. It was then he revealed to me that he was the Heir of Slytherin. I was an heir of Slytherin myself, believe it or not. That was what the Gaunts were famous for. It was also that year that he showed me one of Hogwarts's greatest kept secrets: a hidden chamber that could only be accessed by those who could speak to snakes. From there, it was history.


	2. Ch 1: Fear

Chapter 1 finished wootwoot! Basically jumps right into the Chamber of Secrets.

**UnkownP3**: Thanks for the review, I very much appreciate it :)

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Tom had told me to meet him outside the girls' bathroom on the second floor. I wasn't entirely sure why, but it was beginning to get late. He was one of the prefects patrolling the halls tonight, so he was bound to offer to take this hallway. However, there was still a slight apprehension that I might get caught here, and they would either think I was off my rocker or into voyeurism, which would be a completely out of context assumption. Then again, I had just thought of it, so that meant it couldn't be _entirely_ out of context. That was interesting. I probably should have borrowed the invisibility cloak; then this sort of worry could have been avoided. I did have a reputation for this sort of thing (not watching girls in the bathroom, just being out late).

I gave a glance at the watch on my wrist to see it was half-past eleven. If Tom didn't show up soon, I would probably head back to the common room. I wasn't about to wait for long enough to be found. I hated detentions. That bloody squib Filch hung people by their toes in the dungeons half the night. It wasn't humane, and I honestly couldn't even see how it was within the legal rights of Hogwarts to use such punishment.

"You probably should've borrowed that cloak from Annabelle again," I heard a voice say. I turned to face Tom. "Would have made you much less susceptible to discovery." He then handed me a broomstick, eliciting a rather confused look on my part.

"You don't play Quidditch…" I said slowly, taking a broom.

"Oh, you think?"

"I'm only saying." I shrug. "What're they for?"

"You'll find out soon enough, I'm not going to talk about it here where anyone could hear us. Now come on, we haven't got all night."

Tom walked around me and into the girls' bathroom. I raised an eyebrow after him. Tom was generally reasonable enough, so the idea of having to bring broomsticks into a girls' bathroom for a reason that he couldn't speak of out loud was absolutely absurd. Even so, it piqued my interest, and I followed after a moment. I entered to see him turning on the copper taps in each of the sinks until he reached one that wouldn't work. He set his broomstick against it and proceeded to turn off the water on the rest of the sinks. I walked over to the sink where he had set his broomstick, wondering if the recent discoveries he had made about his herritage had driven him completely mad. I looked the tap over, trying to discover exactly what he was doing. Then, I spotted it: a tiny engraving of a snake on one the side of the spout.

"Is there something there?" said Tom from behind me, picking up his broomstick and looking as well. "Ah, this is definitely it, then. Would have been quite a bit easier to find if I had known that was there."

"What _is_ it? Other than a snake, obviously," I said, backing away from the sink. Tom stood in front of it.

"_Open_." I understood it, but I heard it in Parseltongue. I was confused for a moment – until the tap began glowing. There was a mechanical sound from underneath the basin, and it was sinking into the floor a moment later, revealing a large pipe. The only thing this did was perplex me even further. Tom turned around to look at me.

"Would you prefer to go first or shall I?"

"Depends on where it leads to," I said reproachfully.

"Then I will."

I watched, more befuddled than ever, as Tom took a jump into the chasm. This startled me. He obviously knew something that I didn't, and I wasn't going to find out until I headed down myself. He definitely hadn't lost his mind; this scheme was as cunning as any of his others. He knew that my curiosity would be more than enough to make me take the leap (quite literally) into the unknown. And indeed I did only a moment later.

The pipe was long and twisting, branching off into hundreds of other pipes on the way down. I had no idea where it was leading me, but it was definitely well under the school, well under even the dungeons that the Slytherin common room existed in. I knew this when I finally landed with a _crunch!_ on a pile of… something. I set my broomstick down as I stood up, brushing dust off of my robes. I then pulled out my wand to light it, as it was rather dark wherever we were.

"_Lumos_."

A light came to the tip of my wand, and I used it to show me where I had landed. A chill ran down my spine as I looked at the thousands of bones scattered around on the ground. I looked up to see Tom observing the grotesque scene as well. He didn't look remotely revolted – if anything, he looked impressed by this strange place.

"Seems about right," he was saying, more to himself than me. I picked up my broomstick. "I didn't imagine this many bones, but I suppose that's normal with as long as Hogwarts has been around."

"Er… Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Where the bloody hell _are_ we?"

"The snake on the side of the tap didn't clue you in at all?" he asked, examining something on the wall. I gave a blank stare in response. "The Parseltongue?" he continued in a superior voice. "We're in the Chamber of Secrets, obviously. Any heir of Slytherin should have known that."

I was inclined to roll my eyes at his tone, but I managed not to. I didn't have any right to be angry if anyone was acting in an arrogant manner, as it _was_ my general attitude at most times. It wasn't at the moment. I was too alarmed to be much of anything else.

"I just didn't expect Slytherin would have built the chamber underneath the girls' toilets," I said. "I'm guessing he decided against installing any sort of lighting," I added, looking around for some sort of lantern or chandelier.

"There are candles up and down the corridor," said Tom. I realized at this that the object he was looking at upon the wall was a candle and its holder. "The holders are snakes." He looked at me. "Any ideas?"

Snakes? As the snake on the side of the tap in the girls' bathroom meant having to speak Parseltongue to open it, I supposed this probably meant the same thing. The snakes could have just been for decoration, but I doubted Salazar Slytherin would have put much of anything in his Chamber of Secrets that didn't have some sort of meaning to it. The snake, the mascot for Slytherin, was also his own mascot for his ability to talk to snakes, so it was likely that the snake statues and engravings within this chamber would have something to do with Parseltongue.

I walked to one candle holder on the wall near where I stood, flinching with every sickening crunch of bones, human or otherwise (I wasn't about to examine the bones very closely to find out), breaking under my feet. A silver snake with emerald eyes was wrapped around a candle with long-dried wax dripping over the sides of the stick. The eyes glowing in the light from my wand made it seem almost real, as though it were keeping it eyes on me, wondering what I might do next. I chose to make an attempt at my initial idea.

"_Light._"

I was surprised as not only the candle I had spoken to, but every candle down the corridor, began to light. Slytherin had outdone himself here. There had been no doubt in my mind that, as a founder of a Hogwarts house, he had been a brilliant wizard, but this reinforced the idea. All the great and _brave_ Godric Gryffindor had to his name was a sword. Rowena Ravenclaw had a diadem, hidden away somewhere and probably never to be found. And Helga Hufflepuff? All she had were a few teacups. Salazar Slytherin, however, had left a legacy of absolute brilliance inside the castle itself, unduplicated by any of the other founders.

"Impressive…" I came back to reality as Tom spoke, looking around at the now well lit chamber with its arched stone roof. "All this beneath the school. It's hard to believe it was designed by one man. Absolutely brilliant."

"Little messy…" I said, lifting my foot and nearly gagging at the sight of a bone stuck between the grooves in the bottom of my shoe.

"That's expected," said Tom. "It's doubtful anyone's been around to clean in a while, considering very few have ever even _seen_ the place. There's still question as to whether or not it exists. If I'm not mistaken," he added, now looking down the hallway, "we're not even in the actual chamber yet." He began walking at this, and beckoned me to follow. After a moment of looking down the hall, I decided to pursue the same course.

I sprinted to catch up, but found Tom stopped again a little ways away, lifting something with the end of his broomstick. It looked like…

"Snake skin?"

"The legend says the chamber has a monster, doesn't it?" I wouldn't have said so, but I thought Tom sounded just a bit too happy about this. "Maybe whatever this belongs to –" He dropped the skin from the end of the broomstick, "is that monster. I'd say a Basilisk. They don't kill Parselmouths, but rather obey them. It would have been perfect for Slytherin's heirs to rid the castle of Mudbloods. After this many years, I imagine it can recognize Muggle-born students in some way."

"Smell, probably," I said, crouching down to look at the skin. "Merlin's beard, the thing's got to be fifty feet long…. I reckon it's probably a fully grown one."

"Considering they can live nine hundred years, fully grown probably doesn't even mean anything," said Tom. "I actually considered the idea that Slytherin might have used one. They're easy enough to breed in secret, and no one would have ever suspected it. I imagine it most likely moves through the plumbing, hence why the Chamber is accessible through pipes."

"That makes sense," I said, standing back up from the scaly pile of skin. "Seems it's the only way something that large could move through here secretly." I looked forward along the dimly lit corridor. The candle light ahead didn't seem to light to the end, and it looked as though the hall twisted and turned up ahead. "How much further d'you think the end is?"

"Could be miles," he said, without so much as glancing up from the green snake skin on the ground. "I picked now to come here as it's the Friday before the first Hogsmede trip. If we haven't returned by then, we can say we were in Hogsmede when we do return. It won't be necessary to continue onward if we meet this snake beforehand, however. There won't be any point in it."

_Or we'll be dead…_ I pushed this thought out of my mind as Tom walked past me. I followed him, now finding it hard not to think negatively. What reason was there for me to think so negatively? It was a proven fact that Basilisks took orders from Parselmouths, and this one particularly from Slytherin's heirs. For me to be _afraid_ of this place was as silly as an heir of Hufflepuff afraid to drink from Helga Hufflepuff's teacups for fear of being poisoned. Fear was absolutely pointless. Still, though, it seemed to be present.

Perhaps I could pass it off as anticipation. This couldn't be the Chamber of Secrets, but there was no doubt in my mind that it was ahead in this tunnel. How far ahead was beyond me, but I didn't want to turn back regardless.

So lost I was in my own thoughts that I nearly walked into the wall after ten minutes, as the hallway made an abrupt left turn here. I managed to swerve around it and into another turn – right this time – a few moments later. At the end of the curve in the hall, I came within a centimeter of walking into Tom, who had stopped. I could see why immediately.

Directly ahead of us was a stone wall. It wasn't a plain wall, however, and it seemed that everything Slytherin made here had symbolism. There were two serpent statues on the wall entwined together, taking up the wall's entire height. Their heads dipped down from the ceiling so they were level with our own heights, and their eyes were large, shimmering emeralds. As I looked at one of the candles on the wall, I saw how similar they were in structure, which meant that they were quite obviously –

"_Open._"

Before I could even finish my own thoughts, Tom had stepped forward and commanded the wall to reveal whatever was on the other side. The snakes seemed to slither away over to the sides of the wall, and a crack developed in the middle. The halves slowly parted until both had slid out of sight into the corners of the wall, revealing an arched doorway. Tom was the first through, eager to see what treasure his research had brought to him. At the sound of a triumphant (yet still shrill and unnerving) laugh, I knew what the room ahead of me was.

I also entered and looked around. The room seemed to glow in an eerie, dim, greenish light. It was a cold atmosphere, but the damp air from the tunnel that led here didn't seem to penetrate the dry air filling this room that made the cold nearly unbearable. The architecture was simply amazing, even so. The pillars that held up the tall ceiling that seemed to be concealed in permanent darkness were made of the same stone as the chamber walls, and had snake statuettes curling around them everywhere, emerald eyes glowing in dim light. There were five of these pillars on either side of the hall with a stretch of stone floor in the middle. At the end of this hall stood a larger-than-life statue of the man responsible for this place, Salazar Slytherin, the statue seemingly erected here to keep a permanent watch upon this secret of his.

"This is it." I looked over to see Tom looking happier than he had for the past five years at this school, but it wasn't a normal sort of happy. With Tom, it never was. There was always something _wrong_, something deranged hidden behind the happiness. I already knew what it was regarding this chamber. He had plans to wipe out half of Hogwarts's population and leave behind only Purebloods. He had been planning that for ages, he just hadn't known when or how it would happen until now. "The Chamber of Secrets. I've found it."

He began to walk swiftly toward the statue of Slytherin at the end of the chamber. I was reluctant to follow, but I managed to. Though I did, I stopped at one of the last pillars, not quite directly in front of the statue. Tom stared up at the statue, mumbling something to himself. After a few minutes of this, I decided to speak up.

"Where's the Basilisk supposed to be in all of this?"

Tom looked over at me, then next to the statue of Slytherin. I also looked there, and saw a pipe, definitely wide enough for a snake even the size of a Basilisk to fit easily through. "I imagine it will only come when called. Remember not to look it in the eye."

Finally wrenching his focus away from the statue of Slytherin, Tom moved over in front of the pillar I was leaned sideways against, as it was directly adjacent to the pipe. What amazed me more than anything was that he didn't seem in the least bit nervous about calling an extremely deadly giant snake into his prescence. I kept my eyes to the floor as he addressed the Basilisk, wherever it might have been.

"_King of Serpents: I, Slytherin's heir, call you before me to the Chamber of Secrets._"

"That should work," I said.

"It will. Was in a few of the books regarding the Chamber stating how to call the monster, the books just never said what it was."

"_Master Slytherin? You have returned?_"

"I'm guessing it's probably a snake," I said upon hearing the low, hissing voice coming from the pipes. "And not a very small one."

The sound of slithering echoed through the chamber, growing louder and louder with every passing second now. Needless to say, I was completely unnerved. All right, I suppose that would be a bit of an understatement – the sort of fear that could consume one's entire being had consumed me and was growing with every moment that passed by so slowly. Tom only seemed to become more eager, as far from afraid as any one being could be.

It was obvious who the true heir of Slytherin was here. I was a disgrace to my own house, to be afraid of Slytherin's monster, a disgrace to my family name. We Gaunts took the utmost pride in being able to trace our herritage straight back to Slytherin. Had it been my father in this situation, would he have feared this monster? That was a bit of an offhand question, considering my father wasn't really in his right mind and hadn't been for as long as I could remember. It was hard to ask myself if I was worthy of my family name when the only member of my family I had ever met was my father, who had more issues communicating with other humans than I could count.

Most anyone that was normal would fear the Basilisk. I knew that in the back of my mind. Tom wasn't normal, however, he never was. He was a megalomaniac, he craved power like no other I had ever met. However, that made him perfect for Slytherin, and it also made him the best contestant as Slytherin's heir. Therefore, I was sure the Basilisk would be quicker to obey him than it would me.

Another thought came to my mind. This serpent had most likely been living on rodents for the past fifty years – what if it was hungry enough to not care that I was an heir of Slytherin? I decided to push that from my mind immediately. I was frightened enough of accidently looking this snake in the eye without thoughts of becoming its dinner. There was no need for that.

I saw a flash of bright green from the direction of the tunnel. I quickly averted my eyes to the floor upon hearing that hiss again.

"_Master Slytherin, you have returned to your chamber after fifty years._"

I glanced up to see a smirk on Tom's face. "_As promised. You are free to roam the castle again._"


	3. Ch 2: Morals

_So, no comments last chapter, but it was put into a C2 community, so that's nice :)_

_Anywho, onward to chapter 2._

* * *

"Wh – what?" I said quietly, slightly startled; not many people would _want_ a Basilisk to be completely free to roam the halls of Hogwarts, it could kill _anyone_.

"Quiet," said Tom, glancing over at me. "Basilisk."

"_Master, I cannot freely roam the castle._"

I saw Tom nearly look up at the snake in surprise. It was lucky for him that he was a rather quick thinker, or he would have been lying dead on the floor right now. "_Are you disobeying an order?_" Tom asked.

"_No, my master. Even at these depths of this castle, I can hear the crowing of roosters, not loud enough to be fatal, but just loud enough to have weakened me from my strongest state._"

Tom nodded to himself, and then looked over at me as though to ask me something. Not knowing what this silent question was, I shrugged in response. However, he seemed to take this as a valid answer to his question. I was, to say the least, a bit confused, until he spoke.

"_We will be sure to take care of the roosters before you enter the main castle again,_" I heard Tom hiss in reply to the snake.

Take care of them? I knew exactly what he meant by this, but I didn't particularly want to think about it. I knew some sacrifices would have to be made on my part in order to help my friend with this obsession of his, and I couldn't draw the line at frying a few chickens. I knew well that there was much more to come than such a petty crime. We both knew our curses well enough, so the slaughtering wouldn't be at all bloody. The Killing Curse could take care of anything that wasn't armored against it, and there was no doubt in my mind that feathers wouldn't protect roosters from such a spell. I had never much thought of using it for anything other than showing off, killing spiders and rats for the gawking underclassmen that often asked Tom and me if we _really_ knew the Unforgivable curses, but this was for a purpose. It wasn't like I was killing a human. Granted, I would be murdering these birds in order to make way for a creature that _would_ be killing humans, but that couldn't have been quite as bad.

I did despise how utterly stubborn my morals could be. I knew full well that there would be a voice in the back of my head for the entire school year telling me that this was wrong, that I couldn't let Tom kill everyone regardless of what they were born as, but I knew I would have to ignore it. We were friends, so I should be willing to help, and as one of his "followers," I was basically obligated to do as he asked regarding his status as "Voldemort." I did find the idea of "Voldemort" at least slightly on the strange side, but I wouldn't have told Tom that. I was tactful enough when it came to friends and acquaintances, and I also knew Tom was rather short tempered and either as powerful as or more powerful than me, so I had no intentions of challenging him.

"_And, if I'm not mistaken, I must also find some way to alert the castle that the chamber has been opened, is that not correct?_"

"_Indeed it is, master._"

"_Good_," said Tom, and I could tell he already had something in mind. "_Then you may rest for now. I will call upon you again when you may leave your prison._"

The Basilisk hissed its thanks before slithering away back into its slimy system of pipes. Tom and I looked at each other. He was eager to get to the next part of his plan, I could tell. I can't say I was anywhere near as eager, but again, I felt compelled to help. I listened vaguely on the way out of the chamber as Tom explained his plan quite gleefully, more worried about the thought of the deaths that would soon begin to accumulate in the school.

"… the roosters first, obviously," Tom was saying. "There're only a few teachers left in the castle on Hogsmede trips, almost no students, and Blanell's always at the Hog's Head on the trips."

Blanell was the "gamekeeper" at Hogwarts, though many just considered him to be the resident drunk. He was a rather fat and stout man, and could be seen on most occasions stumbling around his hut on the grounds with a bottle of Firewhiskey, yelling at the roosters for crowing so early in the morning. We would be taking care of that problem soon, but that wasn't to say he would be particularly happy about it.

"That absurdly large third year boy might be something to deal with if he's there," I said. "Blanell seems to leave him in charge on his binges lately."

"Rubeus Hagrid is no threat," said Tom with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Large or not, he's not particularly _bright_ to say the least. He's also been afraid of me since I deducted fifty points from Gryffindor when I found him out of bed after hours around two weeks ago."

"It's surprising he's not in Hufflepuff with the rest of the dimwits."

"There're just as many of them in Gryffindor," said Tom. "Now, we'll dispose to the roosters in as clean as possible a manner as we can, so we'll use the killing curse on all of them. One of them will be hung in the entry hall in front of a wall to allow the school to know the heir of Slytherin is in their midst, and on that wall will be a message of some sort alerting the school that the chamber has opened. You'll need to borrow Annabelle's invisibility cloak and allow me to borrow it from you, the message will be made tomorrow night. If they catch me that way, they won't know anything."

"There's always someone patrolling the entry hall at night, isn't there?" I asked. "I thought it was usually the Head Boy or Head Girl."

"Yes, but only because no one likes volunteering for it," said Tom. "Nothing much happens there. People find secret passages to sneak out of the castle, not many dare to use the front door. As I'm on duty tomorrow night, _I_ will volunteer for it. After watch duty is over, I will put the cloak on and leave my warning, so it will be the first thing everyone sees when they head downstairs for breakfast on Sunday morning. I might even put a permanent-sticking charm on it to make it harder to remove."

I didn't know what sort of message he planned to leave, exactly. However, something told me I probably didn't really want to know, judging by the almost red glint in his eye. Tom, with this power complex of his, could be quite frightening. While there was the stubborn belief in my mind that I could easily take him in a duel or even a fistfight, there was a hidden worry that if it ever came down to that, I might lose a lot more than just my pride. I myself had a very short temper, but Tom and I luckily had yet to have clashed on any subject. Perhaps this was because I avoided disagreeing with him most of the time.

As far as I could see, this Chamber of Secrets bussiness could have turned out to be our first big disagreement – sure, I agreed with the torture and killing of Mudbloods and their herritage, but I didn't want to start it out in Hogwarts. I would go as far as killing the roosters, and then I would make my decision. I didn't want to make it right now with tom in this ambitious a mood. I might be left down here as Basilisk food if I stated my doubts right _now_.

When we made it back to the pipe we had journeyed through to get here, the purpose of the broomsticks became quite obvious – we couldn't exactly climb back up through the pipe, but we could definitely fly. For me, that was much easier said than done. I could fly almost as well as a penguin. As far as I was concerned, things without wings or with nonfunctional wings weren't meant to become airborne at any point in their lives. However, I did need to get out _somehow_, and flying seemed to be the only option available. I headed up first, as we both knew it would take me longer to fly at such slow speeds, trying hard to twist and turn to match the curves in the tunnel.

I finally made it our and, with my feet planted firmly on the wonderful stone floor of the girls' bathroom, I yelled down to Tom that it was safe to go on without having to worry about flying into any obstacles. He took much less time than I had (I had determined that an ostrich could have flown up that tunnel better than I, so it still wasn't saying much), and actually landed on the floor on both feet. I had tried to land as such, but rather stumbled off of my broomstick, nearly running into a bathroom stall headfirst in an utterly _graceful_ manner.

Tom turned to the tunnel and commanded it to close itself in Parseltongue, which it did promptly. I shook my head in amazement. "Slytherin was bloody brilliant."

Tom nodded shortly. "If we're seen, then I'll do the talking. We're heading to Slughorn's office, as I caught you out of bed after hours."

"And the broomsticks?" I asked.

"You had stolen them to play a joke on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team."

I nodded at this, grinning at the idea itself. "Sounds about right. I might just do that before the first Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. Nice idea."

* * *

Sleep seemed to be a foreign concept to me that night, as I believe it also was to Tom. It was for very different reasons for the two of us – Tom was anxious about tomorrow. I was nervous. As I had thought about it, I came to a realization that I couldn't get off of my mind. I realized that I would be the greatest suspect in this for a number of reasons.

Firstly, I was a Gaunt. This was reason enough. My father's sister used to own Slytherin's locket until, like the traitorous muggle-loving tramp she was, she sold it to Borgin and Burkes' for ten sickles just before she died, where it still lie to this day (I had recently saved enough money to buy it back, which I planned to do this summer). Gaunts were the remaining _known_ heirs of Slytherin, and I was the only one at Hogwarts. That alone was probably enough reason to prosecute me.

Then, of course, I openly despised any and all Gryffindors, hence the sabotage of their game I had started planning earlier tonight. I was known to cause trouble with them, yell at them in the hallways, hex them; all the usual things. I was never particularly violent, except with that _Longbottom_. It was all fine and well – Algie Longbottom had stood up to me by disarming me, which landed him in the hospital wing with a broken nose and a fat lip, blubbering like the great bloody baby he was.

I knew it was that very attitude that was bound to get me into trouble in this Chamber of Secrets situation, but there seemed to be no filter between my thoughts and my reality in that area. Tom had an adequate amount of self control (which the bloody arse never saw fit to share with me no matter how many times I asked) compared to my complete lack of it. Tom was the goody-two-shoes. Tom was the Slytherin Prefect who treated Gryffindors just as he did his own house members: indifferently, but still civilly. Nearly everyone liked him and pitied him for having to keep his troublemaking best friend in line, that insolent boy that was always getting himself into a jam, what was his name again? Oh, right, Timothy _Gaunt_.

I always found it funny how people thought he tried to keep me in line. If anything, he encouraged me – was it not him that gave me my idea to steal the Gryffindor Quidditch team's brooms and shove them in the Room of Requirement before the next game? He hadn't said anything about the Room of Requirement, I had come up with that myself, but he had still initiated the plan in my mind. I sometimes wondered if I would be half as bad if he didn't _accidently_ make such suggestions.

Another thing Tom had going for him in the case of the Chamber of Secrets was his own herritage. His father was a Muggle and he didn't even _know_ who his mother was. He had grown up in a Muggle orphanage his entire life, but it seemed he had come out of it more mature, a better student and a better person, when in reality it had only driven him to madness. However, only I knew that. His supporters, the "Knights of Walpurgis" (it was a working name, there was no doubt it would be changed in the future – I'd already told him it was a tad bit queer-sounding), hung on his every word about change and the future of the wizarding world. I supported his ideas, but it was easy to see that aside from being a megalomaniac, he was a mental case. It was his past that did it to him, and I did feel sorry for him. However, I hadn't come out of the best living conditions myself and I had turned out all right (minus the lack of a filter between my mind and my mouth, but I was working on that).

It was at around six in the morning that I decided I couldn't lay down for any longer. There was a sick feeling in my stomach, and I needed to walk it off somewhere. Six o' clock was a valid time to head up to breakfast, so I could probably settle my stomach wandering through the dungeons and up to the Great Hall.

Though I believed I might have gone mad if they were serving chicken biscuits… or if I heard a rooster crowing on my way.

Despite my desire to get out _now_ before _I_ went mad, I was stopped as soon as I reached the common room by a positively livid redhead standing in front of the stairs leading from the boys' dormitories. I flinched slightly. Even compared Tom in his most demented state of happiness over something dealing with muggle torture, this girl scared the _life_ out of me when she was angry.

"You're _not_ borrowing my cloak, you bloody –!" she began, pointing at me threateningly.

"A – An– Anne, calm down for a moment –"

"I will _not_!" she said, stomping her foot on the floor and putting her hands on her hips, glaring up at me. "What exactly were you doing out after hours last night? Hmm? You know I had prefect duty, I could have found you and given you– _Oh!_ I take it that was why Riddle volunteered to patrol the second floor, then? Because you were waiting there for some sort of orders? It's ridiculous, this _Lord Voldemort_ garbage, what is it you need my bloody cloak for now? What? Are you going out tonight to sacrifice small animals in the name of your _Lord?_ You're _despicable!_"

I walked over to the couch and sat down with Annabelle Potts chiding and nagging me all the way there. I had decided a year ago when we began dating that, if I had a mother, I might have committed suicide by now – there was no _way_ I could have dealt with this much pestering from _two_ women.

"Bloody hell, did you even change your clothes last night?"

"I was tired," I lied – I wasn't tired at all when I got back, but more so lacking the willpower required to change into clean clothes.

"Out until two in the morning, oh I _wonder_ why you were tired! Listen," she said, sitting down on the couch next to me, "Riddle's changed since his first year, Timothy. You should know that better than anyone, I _know_ he hasn't completely brainwashed you. I'm just worried you're getting mixed up in something that's going to land you in Azkaban after school."

_Or durring my sixth year…_ I thought – I managed to refrain from saying it out loud, however. "I won't end up in Azkaban."

"You will if you keep on with Tom Riddle. He's not a good friend, he's only using you as one of his followers. That's why he's getting you to borrow my cloak."

"But– wait, how did you know that?"

"I was having trouble sleeping. I was sitting out here when you came back with _him_. In my cloak, yes, you nearly sat on me when you fell on the couch, thank you."

"Well, I couldn't exactly see you, could I?"

"And I heard something about him needing the cloak to sneak out tomorrow night, and I'm _not_ letting him near my cloak. You, yes, but _not_ him, you know I don't like letting it get away from me. Are you planning on going to Hogsmede today?" she added suddenly.

Now I faced a dilemma. I could say no and she would suspect me, or I could say yes and she could figure out I was lying. Either way, it would be a headache on my part. I supposed it didn't matter which I said.

"I don't think so," I said. "I'm still a bit exhausted from getting in so late last night, I'll probably stay at the castle. I might go if I've managed to wake up by then."

Perfect, she looked more concerned than suspicious. "Oh…" she said. "I should have thought about that. I suppose _Tom_ won't be going either, then?" I felt a muscle near my eye twitch. Annabelle was far too good at acting – she managed to go from worried to disbelieving in a matter of seconds. "Don't think you can fool me, Timothy, I know you too well. Now, _I'm_ going to breakfast." She stood up. "I suggest you think about who you've managed to become _friends_ with."

I heaved a sigh of mixed relief and exasperation. She didn't understand what was going on at all. I understood that she was concerned, but I didn't see what problem she had with Tom – he was a little on the strange side, but he was perfectly civil with everyone except a select few. She didn't seem to know about the Chamber of Secrets, so I could excuse her – she didn't understand entirely that I might be killed if I went against Tom. I doubted he would kill me himself, but that Basilisk might see me as a blood traitor if I suddenly decided to stop taking responsibility for being one of Slytherin's heirs and kill me.

I generally liked snakes a great deal, as I could hold decent conversations with them when there weren't any humans available to talk to, but that Basilisk more or less petrified me with terror. And now I had to help kill the rooster population of the school to make sure it stayed alive. It was unjust, in my opinion, but the problem with my feeling of obligation reminded me that my opinions didn't really matter in this game, and I would be suspected whether I helped or not.

This wasn't a particularly enjoyable situation I was stuck in the middle of.


	4. Ch 3: Cloak

_Oi.  Finally finished.  I'm going to work on the next chapter of A Gaunt Tale next, as well as try to work on a few of my Death Note stories a little more again._

_Review, if you don't mind?_

* * *

It's hard to describe looking at the sky on a cloudy morning. Looking up at the clouds on that particular Saturday, it was easy to tell that rain would come soon as even the sky mourned over what was soon to happen to Hogwarts, though it was one of the few entities who knew. The sky knew everything, as she covered everything at all times of the day, in darkness and in light. On those bleak and dreary days of September humidity, there was always one small part in the skies that differed from the rest; it was that one spot that could burn a person's eyes right out of their head if they stared for too long. That was the sun, trying hard to illuminate the majestic castle on the cliff that was Hogwarts, to give us the light we needed to see the difference in the paths of right and wrong.

The ones who didn't know the difference between the two could be helped by nothing, not even the vibrant shining of the sun's rays. Tom Riddle didn't care about that light. As he had said so often to so many, there's no such thing as good and evil, light and dark. There was only power and ambition; weakness and apathy.

These days, I know Annabelle was right to be worried about my association with Tom Riddle. In those days, however, I dismissed it as the general nagging that Orion always complained about when it came to Walburga. The difference in them, however, was that they never loved each other. Their partnership was arranged to keep the Black family pure in blood, as were many marriages of the day. My father didn't have the mind to do anything of the sort, and Annabelle came from a family of blood traitors that she was deeply ashamed of. We weren't forced, and her nagging wasn't just for the sake of nagging. I did love her, but I was beginning to think she didn't believe it. Whether she did or now, she still cared about me; I see that now. I might have been able to avoid what was to happen on that Saturday if I had seen it then.

Looking back, I wonder if I could have grown apart from Tom if I had gone to Hogsmeade with Annabelle, as she had pleaded for me to do at breakfast that morning. We all make mistakes, but my mistake cost me my entire life. It didn't cost me my life in the most literal sense – I lived, but I lived a life that, in the back of my mind, I always regretted. I finally see that now. As a teenager, however, I had become too blind from staring into the sun and waiting for its light to show me the right way, to be able to see any sort of revelation. Looking for revelations had never helped. Had I been more patient, it would have come to me.

On that morning, I was dragged forcibly out of the castle by Annabelle, who was still pleading with me to forget Tom, if just for one day. Even though I had to admit to myself her terms weren't particularly steep, I still couldn't go. There were things that needed to be done, and now was the only time they could be done. I couldn't tell her about the Chamber of Secrets, though I wished in the back of my mind that I could have, if only for the sake of helping her to understand why I refused to even consider listening to her.

"Timothy!" I was pulled out of my thoughts by both her scold and her hand shaking my arm as the last few students destined for Hogsmede were leaving the front entrance of the castle. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," I said impatiently. "I should go to Hogsmede because Riddle is a psychopath. Is that all, now?"

She let go of my arm, but only to hit it. "You just don't _get_ it, you _idiot!_" she said crossly. She then looked around before continuing quietly, and as fast as the speed of sound could accelerate her voice. "Riddle's up to something or else he wouldn't be needing an invisibility cloak and I _know_ it's bad and I _know_ you shouldn't be involved in it or you're going to either get yourself arrested or _killed_! Don't you understand that?"

"I might understand you a bit better if you weren't talking so bloody fast."

She took in a sharp breath, clenching her hands into fists. I could tell I was making her angry – it wasn't my intention to do so. I was just good at it, especially when I wasn't trying to. She spoke again, taking a tone of calmness that sounded almost deadly – it was then that I figured it would probably be a good idea to just not speak again.

"You're _about_," she said, pointing at me, "to make me _very_ angry. You _don't_ want to make me angry. You heard every word of what I said, I'm not going to repeat myself. Are you staying?"

"Haven't I already answered that question a few times?"

"I'm giving you one more chance to answer it. Are you _staying_?"

"_Yes_, for the last time, I _am_."

Annabelle nodded, smiling in an almost kind manner – I had trained my eyes to tell the difference, however. This smile was as far from kind as it could possibly be. "Fine," she said. "Stay friends with Tom. I'm not going to testify in your favor when you're arrested. And if you die, I may hold a séance and call you back from the dead _just_ to say 'I told you so!'"

And at that, she walked off without another word. That was all the better for me – I'd have only gotten myself into deeper trouble if I had been allowed to open my mouth again. I headed back into the castle and to the dungeons, to the left of the marble staircase in the entrance hall. Tom was supposed to have stayed there to devise some plan to get Annabelle's invisibility cloak. I didn't like the idea of tricking her, but certain measures _had_ to be taken when it came to some things.

As I reached the bare patch of wall I knew lead to the Slytherin common room, I muttered the password, watched the wall dissolve, and headed it. I didn't glance back, as I already knew it would reformulate behind me. In the common room, Tom was pacing in front of the staircases and flipping through the pages of a book that I recognized to be _Hogwarts, a History_. Why he felt the need to look through it was beyond me – he had read and reread the book so many times that it was amazing he didn't have every page catalogued within his memory. It seemed he found what he was looking for as I reached one of the green armchairs and took a seat.

"There you are…" he murmured, pointing to something in the book. He quickly skimmed over the page, then shut the book and walked over to the small table in front of the sofa, from which he retrieved another book, one on reversal spells and counter-curses. "Still no luck talking her into letting you borrow the cloak?" He sat down on the sofa and flipped to the back of the book.

"None," I said. "She's rather protective of it."

"Or stubborn. There…" he added in an undertone, tracing along a page in the book to something, and then flipping back a couple hundred pages. "We may just have to steal it if that's going to be the case."

I raised my eyebrows. "Steal?"

Tom looked up as he reached the page he was looking for. "It wasn't my first idea, but the only other valid ones would involve Potts's cooperation, which doesn't seem to be available."

"You do realize that the girls' staircase is guarded, don't you?"

"That would be why I'm looking for the proper reversal spells," said Tom, indicating the book. "One is an alarm spell, which can be foiled with a silencing charm, the other turns the stairs into a slide, which is what I'm looking for now."

"Don't you think the founders would have developed an original spell for that?" I asked. "They wouldn't want us to be able to find a way to break in inside a book."

"It'll be a variation of a previously published spell," said Tom, "so I'll have to come up with my own variation of a reversal spell for it. I don't think it'll be too hard."

I shrugged in response. I honestly thought the idea of outsmarting the four founders of Hogwarts sounded at least _slightly_ difficult, but I didn't feel like arguing it. "What're you planning on doing about the roosters?"

"That's fairly obvious, don't you think?"

"I mean, when?" I asked. "I figured we'd go ahead and get that done while everyone's out of the castle."

"As soon as I can come up with something here," said Tom absently, now reading something in the book, "then I'll fix that and get rid of the roosters myself while you get the cloak from upstairs. Did you see whether or not Blanell headed out to Hogsmede this morning?"

"I believe he was headed that way," I said – I had seen him walking, but I had been too busy getting a reprimanding to have been able to focus on much else. "The worst that'll be at his cabin'll be that Hagrid."

"I can take care of him easily enough," said Tom. "So you'll be here getting that cloak." At this, Tom shut the book and set it on the table. "Since the Gryffindor dorms are located on two spiral staircases, according to _Hogwarts a History_, this spell wouldn't work for them. It seems the founders specifically used an irremovable spell, but it can be thwarted for a few seconds, which is long enough to get up the staircases in this common room."

"They made halls at the tops of the staircases here because we're under the lake and the stairs couldn't have travelled any higher, right?"

"It could have," said Tom. "The magic to make it withstand the force of the water would have been easy enough to do if they had made the common rooms like the rest of the house dorms, but Slytherin apparently chose to have his houses' commons made differently for whatever reason. So," Tom said, standing and walking towards the stairs, "you'll only need the spell to be done once, as the staircases can turn into a slide on your way back down with no worries. You may have to perform another silencing spell, but that's a fairly basic charm. There's not enough time for me to tell you what spell I'm using to make the staircase work properly, but you won't need it done more than once, just don't forget the silencing charm on the way down. Also, bring the cloak to me, as I'll be needing it immediately."

He pointed his wand towards the stairs and muttered _"Silencio."_ I stood and moved to the stairs as well, as he was murmuring something else at the stairs. He waved his wand. The stairs gave off a bright white glow for a moment. "Fifteen seconds," he said, moving towards the exit to the common room. "You'll want to go now before it wears off."

It took me a split second to snap out of my initial confusion, and I then headed quickly up the staircase. I was amazed that the spell worked – I had been subjected to learning about the charm placed on the stairs the hard way in my third year. It was then that Annabelle had decided it would be amusing to play a trick on me by sending me upstairs to get something out of her trunk, all the while knowing what would happen.

* * *

I had forgotten the Silencing Spell. I'll tell you, I felt absolutely _brilliant_ with that one. I stepped onto the stairs, feeling rather triumphant that I had managed to quietly retrieve the cloak (after having to search for it, and it turned out to be hidden under her mattress) without anyone noticing whatsoever. By the flood of first and second year giggles from the hall after I stepped onto the stairs leading back into the common rooms when the siren went off, I knew I had been heard. I did as my instincts told me to – after sliding down the staircase-turned-stone slide, I ran as fast as my feet would carry me.

I stopped to catch my breath and to hide the cloak when I was a fair distance down the dungeon corridors. I froze for a short moment when I heard footsteps coming from around the corner ahead of me. It couldn't be Tom – he was waiting for the cloak. I was going to be brutally murdered in the middle of the dungeons if it was Annabelle, but – I looked down at my watch as I thought of this – no, it hadn't been long since they had left for Hogsmeade, not long enough for them to have come back…. I finished hiding the cloak inside my own, much less invisible cloak, and started down the corridor as casually as I could without seeming suspicious (or, rather, I hoped I didn't seem suspicious).

I was grateful when Professor Slughorn walked past me with little more than a kind "hello."

I wasn't quite as grateful when he stopped me after walking past me to ask me the question I had been dreading _anyone_ asking.

"Timothy?"

I jumped in my startle before turning around slowly. "Yes, Professor?" Good – at least I had managed to keep my voice calm. That was a miracle in itself, acting was never one of my strong points.

"Just out of curiosity, isn't today one of the Hogsmeade trips?"

"Yes, actually," I said, crossing my arms to hold the invisibility cloak in place (I was _sure_ I had felt it slip, but it could have just been paranoia), "but I wasn't feeling well enough to go this morning. I decided to stay behind."

"Ah, yes, I did hear there was a bout of the flu going around. I do believe Madam Harte has something for it in the hospital wing, you might want to check with her."

"I should be headed that way sometime today," I said.

I gave a sigh of relief when Slughorn left for his classroom to grade papers – it wouldn't have been good for him to have gotten suspicious of me. Slughorn was one of the few teachers that didn't have a problem with me, and I planned to keep it that way. He generally had a tendency to surround himself with students of rich or famous background and those whose futures seemed promising. As far as his students were concerned, I fell into the famous category for my family, and Tom fell into the promising future category for nearly everything he did – he had received O's on all of his O.W.L.s last year, for instance – so we were two of Slughorn's favorite students. As our head of house, Professor Abraxas Malfoy, would be retiring after this year (much to the dismay of his son in my year, who never got into any trouble for this reason), and Slughorn was likely to be picked as Slytherin's new head, I preferred to stay on his good side and go through at least _one_ year of school with a head of house that didn't mind me.

I emerged into the entrance hall a few minutes after speaking with Slughorn, and I headed outside quickly before I could be seen by any other suspicious teachers. I was scared to death of being caught with a stolen invisibility cloak – they were already against the rules, and were even more so when _stolen_. I moved quickly in the direction of the forbidden forest, where I knew Blanell's house (if you could even _call_ it a house) to be located. I got there quickly with as fast as I had been walking, and stepped over the small fence that led back to the garden and the area the animals were kept. Tom was sitting on top of a crate on the other side of the chickens' pen, where a number of roosters lay dead on the ground, though one was on another crate nearby.

"You did get the cloak, didn't you?" asked Tom, looking up. I pulled it from between my shirt and my own cloak.

"Ran into Slughorn on the way, I needed to hide it. Did you think about _Prior Incantatem?_"

"Yes," said Tom standing and grabbing the rooster on the other crate by the legs with slight revulsion. "_Prior Incantatem_ only works backwards for five spells, so I did ten spells that we've either been learning in class or are used in everyday situations, which should erase the Killing Curse from my wand's detectable memory. Cloak." I handed him the cloak. "I'll be wearing it back into the castle, as I'd look a bit odd carrying a dead bird with me. If you're stopped because someone saw you here, just come up with an excuse and I'll go on ahead to the common room and hide the bird somewhere.

"Right," I said. "You'll not want to take off the cloak until you get back in our dorm."

"Why?"

"I forgot the silencing spell on the way back down the stairs, there may still be a ruckus in there with the first and second years."

Tom rolled his eyes and threw the cloak on. "Forgot?" his now disembodied voice said. "Brilliant."

"I see," I said sarcastically, and started walking, "you only decide to be sarcastic when I can't see you well enough to take a swing at you."

"Obviously, after seeing what happened to Longbottom last year," said Tom's voice from my left. "I'm not an idiot. Hence why I'm not in Gryffindor. Keep quiet now, people are going to think you're talking to yourself. Most of them already think you'll go mad by the time you're thirty by looking at your dad."

"If we're using him as an example, twenty would probably be a more accurate age," I said in disgust – whether I respected my father or not had nothing to do with what I thought of him. I was slightly ashamed to be related to someone like him, but I wouldn't have said that to his face. That was respectful enough. "Maybe he'll hex the wrong Muggle soon and get sent to Azkaban. Then I could leave."

I walked back to the castle in silence, only aware of where Tom was by the occasional snapping of a twig on the ground somewhere in my vicinity. I was stopped abruptly in the entrance hall and it was all I could do not to bang my head on the wall for this distraction.  Had it been anyone else, I'd have been fine, but no – it just _had_ to be this.

"Mr. Gaunt?" I flinched at the voice of the figure I had just passed, and I heard quiet footsteps go on past me as Tom headed for the dungeons. I turned on the spot to see Dumbledore looking at about the area Tom would have been seen were it not for the cloak – could he see through them? No, that was impossible. Dumbledore was just mad – brilliant, no doubt, but absolutely bonkers.

"Professor," I said calmly, nodding in regard. "I'm guessing you'd like to know why I'm not in Hogsmeade, sir?"

I quickly put up a wall in my mind – any time Dumbledore was suspicious of my actions, he had a tendency to, without any warning, attempt to employ Legilimency on me. He should have known by now that it didn't work, though I doubt he knew how much study I had put into Legilimency and Occlumency. He never had been able to pick the lock on my mind, nor had he been able to use it on Tom since I had taught him. If it angered Albus Dumbledore, however, he showed no signs of it.

"I was going to ask, yes," he said. He was also good at hiding suspicion.

"Professor Slughorn's already asked, that's how I guessed. I just wasn't feeling well enough to head out this morning."

I doubted I sounded convincing, but as long as I kept up my barricade, he could never know. "But you were feeling well enough to take a walk around the grounds?"

"Not really," I said. "I was trying to find Tom, I needed to ask him about an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I know he stayed behind, but I'm not sure where he was. Could you let him know I'm looking for him if you happen to spot him?"

I gave a sigh of relief once Dumbledore agreed to this and was out of earshot. The only teacher whose suspicion really had a tendency to unnerve me was Dumbledore. I had a headache after just a couple minutes of trying to keep him from invading my mind. I headed for the dungeons now as well to wait for tonight to roll around – to wait for the time Tom would make his warning to the castle that the chamber of secrets had been opened.


	5. Ch 4: Revenge

It was on that same Saturday that I was nearly caught in the girls' dormitories that I discovered the worst form of torture ever known to mankind: revenge. Not just any revenge, however – I've had experience with revenge before. Around a week after mutilating Algie Longbottom's face (such fun times), I found myself in the hospital wings with front teeth the size of dish plates, as the filthy blighter had gotten me in the corridor while my back was turned. So, yes, I had become acquainted with revenge before that Saturday, but it became my worst enemy then.

As I said, it wasn't just any revenge that may as well have caused me to drop dead on the spot – it was the revenge of a woman scorned. Come to find out, Annabelle was at least a hundred times better with revenge than anyone I had ever met; I was of half a mind to kill when I saw her heading into the Great Hall that afternoon at meal time. Not her, of course, but Malfoy? I'd have killed him were it not for the simple fact that I was in _school_. If we had been anywhere else at the time, he'd have been drowning in a pool of his own blood.

Perhaps I should explain? Yes. Annabelle's revenge for my not going to Hogsmeade with her, for not forgetting Tom for the day as she had asked me to, _was_ Malfoy. She returned with him. Meaning _with_ him – they weren't just walking together, no. I spotted them walking into the Great Hall, where I was already. Tom had been talking about something regarding the chamber of secrets (my mind had been miles away, off at Zonko's and Honeydukes and everywhere else I had missed going today for the sake of thievery), but upon seeing Terentius Malfoy's arm around Annabelle, I immediately lost what little focus I had managed to maintain up to that point on what Tom was saying. Tom must have noticed, as I heard him snigger; he had never found much interest in what he referred to as "general teenage drama," but he did find it amusing to watch.

"So, when will tickets for the fight go on sale?"

I continued glowering at Malfoy who, as I noticed, glanced over in my direction after a moment and began to look particularly nervous. "If he doesn't walk away from her in five seconds it's going to be a free show."

"You do realize Dippet is here, don't you?"

I shot a glance back at the High Table. Dippet was, indeed, sitting in his chair, as balding and cheerful as he ever had been. I quickly directed my glare back at Terentius Malfoy, who was taking care in sitting as far away from me as possible. "Dippet despises me anyway, what more could this hurt me? He's too afraid of my father to throw me out of school. Besides, you sound more amused than concerned."

"That would be because I am."

"I figured so," I said, looking around the Great Hall. The sounds of the regular afternoon din of the room were reaching their highest volumes, so I could easily get Malfoy's attention without seeming too suspicious. I stood and looked down the table, where Malfoy was sitting in the company of Patrick Parkinson, Harold Goyle, and Orion Black. He was still shooting wary glances down at my end of the table. His fear wasn't my problem in the least – he had brought this upon himself. "Oi! Malfoy!"

As I had hoped, no one had seen this as out of the ordinary at all – it was a common occurrence for someone to call across the long table in the Great Hall to get others' attentions, and the Great Hall could grow so loud that it was often a difficult task to speak to even a person sitting next to or across from one without yelling.

Though I did despise him at that moment, I wouldn't have ever said that Terentius Malfoy was a complete coward. I might have, but it would have been untrue. He wasn't bold to the point of utter stupidity, or he'd have been in Gryffindor – everyone did have their moments of teeth-chattering fear. Judging by the look on his face that he was trying to conceal, this was one of those moments for him. I did have a sort of a reputation at Hogwarts for being a bit on the violent side when I grew angry. Even I knew I had inherited my father's short temper. Other students generally did their best not to cross me, but Malfoy had done one hell of a job at infuriating me now, and there was no doubt he knew it. Granted, Madam Pomfrey could mend broken bones easily enough, but they were rather painful while they lasted.

Malfoy looked down the table reluctantly and raised his eyebrows in recognition. I motioned for him to come over. He said something to Annabelle (for which I clenched my fists, but managed to refrain from throwing the butter knife on the table in front of me at him), and then stood, walking down the length of the table as though to his death. I turned to face him as he reached my end of the table, still glaring. He flinched.

"Care to explain why –?"

"I _swear_ it wasn't my idea. She said she needed to get back at you for something and she threatened to leave me behind the Hog's Head under a body bind hex if I didn't do as she said." I raised my eyebrows. "Really."

I was a bit skeptical, but with as long as I had been friends with Malfoy, I supposed I could trust him. It was just like one of his family to surrender when threatened, particularly by someone as threatening as the angered form of Annabelle. Even so, I had never seen Annabelle act quite so callously about something, but every human being was perfectly capable of it. We had only really been acquaintances until last year, so I couldn't say I knew her well enough to know what to expect from her at every turn.

I sat back down as Malfoy headed quickly back over to the other side of the table. Though the idea scared me a bit, I knew I was probably going to have to say something to Annabelle soon. She would only get angrier if I didn't, as she definitely wasn't the most patient person in the world. Then again, neither was I, so thinking negatively of her because of that would have made me a hypocrite. I would have to arrange some time to talk with her tonight.

"That probably isn't the most brilliant idea you've ever had."

I looked over at Tom. "I didn't teach you how to use Legilimency so you could invade _my_ mind," I said sourly.

"Then stop thinking so loudly." I rolled my eyes and instead looked down at the plate on the table in front of me. "Well, it's not my fault you are, is it? All I'm saying is that it would be too soon and she'd refuse to talk to you. Tomorrow, however, would be late enough that she would grow angrier."

"Oh, and you know _all_ about _relationships_."

"I know a fair bit from seeing all of the ones you've had that fail miserably."

"Oh, _that's_ nice…"

"You might think so, but I'm the one that has to deal with all the complaining afterwards," said Tom. "And besides, you're not the source of the problem in this matter to begin with."

"I know, _you_ are," I said, annoyed – of course, I'd have been annoyed with the wall at that point, had it been sitting next to me. The fact that Tom was making any noise at all only furthered my irritation with him. "So what's your point? It's not like I can particularly talk to her according to _your_ logic, which is unfortunately almost always correct."

"Would you mind letting me finish?" said Tom, sounding as though he was growing equally annoyed. "As I'm the source of the problem, I should talk to her. I could even lie and say I had you under the Imperius Curse, couldn't I? Then she'd both forgive you and feel bad for you. Besides, she'd be a useful follower. She despises blood traitors and muggles from what I understand, and she's probably best in our year in more practical subjects based solely on spellwork."

I laughed. "She bloody hates _you_, all you'd manage to do is make matters worse."

"Maybe for myself," he said, "but I'm not about to put up with another three months of you whining about another failed relationship."

"How friendly of you," I said sarcastically. "And what do you plan to say, exactly?"

"That I controlled your mind somehow, for one," he said, "and then mention why, but not specify. She would support the purging of Mudbloods from this school, I imagine, so I suppose mentioning that it has something to do with them would help my case a bit. You know I'm good at convincing people, I wouldn't have as many followers as I do now if I wasn't. It might be a bit of a harder job if she discovers that her invisibility cloak is missing," he added, "but I suppose I might be able to manage anyway."

The day drawled on for the few remaining hours of that were left of it. I chose to head back to the Slytherin common room early, then into the sixth year boys' dormitory when Annabelle entered again, Tom following me and still talking about plans with the Chamber of Secrets to the point that I almost wanted to hex him, though I suppose I might have been a bit more enthusiastic if I hadn't been in such a terribly foul mood. We were joined later by others in our year. Among them was Orion Black, who told me in quite an amused manner that Annabelle had discovered her invisibility cloak to be missing and was out to kill.

"Is that so?" was my bored reply as I examined the back of my hand with equal disinterest.

"Oh, yeah," he said, "she's already started an official inquiry with all of the girls who stayed behind from the Hogsmeade trip. She's got a few others that were in Hogsmeade helping her, but they're apparently not her main suspect."

"Judging by your _tone_," I said, starting to grow a bit annoyed, "I'm guessing it's probably me that she suspects the most." I sat up on my bed. "Right?"

"It's because you insisted on staying behind," he said, though he obviously sensed danger now, as he backed up a bit.

"Thought so." I laid back down on my bed and continued my examination of the back of my hand.

"Well, did you take it?"

I scoffed. "Why don't you try walking up the stairs to the Girls' Dormitories and see what happens?" I said. "Bet it's not half as easy as it sounds. _Hogwarts a History_ states that the founders trusted female students more than males, so while they're allowed to enter our dorms, we can't enter theirs without setting off some sort of alarm."

"That's the thing, though," he said, sitting down on the bed next to mine (which wasn't his own, but I never did say that Orion Black had much of a respect for other peoples' property). "All of the first and second years she's talked to said the alarm went off earlier, which means _someone_ tried to break in for something."

And there was my one mistake. She had every reason to suspect _me_, then it wasn't just some sort of strange instinct or inclination. She had evidence that a boy had attempted to go up those stairs (though I doubted she suspected that I would have set off the alarm coming back _down_), and she would immediately suspect me because of my insistence on staying behind this morning. Nevertheless, the only solution would be to keep calm and not give myself up, not to _anyone_.

"Then I suppose she has reason to suspect me," I said calmly. "It could have just as easily been any one of the first or second years that stayed behind, but she's angry. So I suppose she's bound to jump to conclusion."

"Did you take it, though?"

"I wasn't even aware the alarm went off, I haven't been in the dormitories all day," I said, growing more annoyed with each passing second. "Now, would you please go away? I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

It was a desperate excuse, but it could work… "We're practicing palm reading in Divination. I'm studying."

Granted, Orion Black wasn't a _complete_ idiot, so odds were he didn't believe my feeble excuse. Of course, he was also smart enough to know when he was about to be hexed, and as this was one of those moments, he got up rather quickly and headed over to the other side of the dormitory. His irritating had at least done a decent job of alerting me that Annabelle was now quite angry with me for more than one thing, which wasn't particularly good at all. It was fine for me, considering I had absolutely no plans of going downstairs without an invisibility cloak on. I had no doubt, however, that if Tom held true to his word and made a sore attempt to talk to her, he would definitely be decapitated.

Even so, when night rolled around and the sounds of laughter and studying subsided into a sea of snores, Tom finally stood up from his bed and tossed his book off to the side, on top of his trunk. He walked to the trunk, picked up the book, and put it inside, then proceeded to pull out a long, silvery cloak; Annabelle's invisibility cloak. I sat up at the foot of my bed and spoke quietly.

"You realize she's probably still sitting down there, don't you?" I said quietly.

"Yes," he said, "but I have a plan."

I looked from him to the cloak. "If it's to get yourself killed, I say you'll probably do a fine job of it. You can't let her _see_ that!"

Tom rolled his eyes and slung it over his shoulder. "I have a plan," he said again. "I'll tell her I took the cloak –"

"And we come to the conclusion that Tom Riddle has truly lost his mind."

"No, not quite."

"But almost."

"Would you let me finish?" I chose to remain silent and allow him to continue. "Thank you. Before she _can_ attempt to kill me, I'll explain to her _why_ I took it. Again, I'm sure she'll support the cause. I might also add in that if either you or I back out, then we both are in danger of losing our lives, which should put it into perspective for her a bit better, and I'll allow her the chance to join in on the cause. I might be forced to use a bit of Legilimency –"

"If you even think the words Imperius Curse, you're dead –"

"But I won't go as far as using the Imperius Curse, you're really not good at holding back your thoughts, are you?"

"I'm surprised you feel the need to ask."

––

I slept decently that night, in contrast to the previous. There was the fear that Tom speaking with Annabelle would only further infuriate her infuriation with me and I might wake up to find an insanely angry redhead standing over me with a knife, but I was able to ignore that fear and sleep soundly until morning with visions of giant snakes and dead roosters playing on the backs of my eyelids. Needless to say, I was quite happy to be awake when morning rolled around, and there was no doubt in my mind that the nightmares would continue for as long as I kept on with this chamber of secrets business.

As though on some strange schedule, I awoke at exactly six o'clock the next morning. I didn't understand it well. I had no alarm clock of any sort to my name, and I didn't believe I had any sort of internal clock, as I somehow managed to wake up late four out of five times on weekdays when I actually had classes to worry about. It was simply annoying that I had to awaken at a decent hour on weekends, when I was _supposed_ to sleep in.

Tom was already sitting in his bed reading, but the same definitely couldn't be said for anyone else in the dormitory. I managed to stand, rather shakily, and walk across the room over to Tom's bed. "Did everything go according to plan?"

"Definitely," he said, though not looking up from his book (which I now saw was _Hogwarts, A History_, which he was no doubt reading to find out any possible information on the chamber he might have previously missed). "Annabelle definitely isn't angry anymore – she's on my side entirely, for that matter, and definitely all for the purging of blood traitors."

"Not a big surprise considering her family," I said.

"The warning has been left for the school, and everyone will surely see it on their way to the Great Hall. I'm waiting to head up so I can see the reaction of the larger crowds." He glanced over at the clock on his bedside table and looked surprised. "Is it six o'clock already? Only another hour."

I blinked a few times in a mixture of drowsiness and confusion, shook my head, and went back to my own bed, where I chose to fall down. I doubted getting back to sleep would be an option at this point, particularly not with the amount of snoring going on that had made falling asleep the night before quite a difficult task. However, I didn't feel like standing around for an hour, so this was the next best thing, pretending to be passed out cold so no one could bother me.

I was sort of reluctant to head upstairs to breakfast, anyway. I was quite apprehensive to see how Tom had chosen to "alert" the school of the opening of the chamber of secrets, or of how many students would automatically jump to the conclusion that it was me.


	6. Ch 5: Accused

I was afraid. I don't deny that for a second, I was dead scared. Looking at the display on the front doors of the castle, the blood red color of the letters that seemed to glow vibrantly against the dark brown wood of the doors and that rooster hanging by its feet from a nail sent fear coursing through my veins like I had never felt, not even when faced with that Basilisk down in the Chamber. It wasn't the sight that scared me, though. It wasn't the words, the elaborate display of letters, "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir Beware," nor even that rooster strung up by its talons.

No… what made me almost nauseous with fear and apprehension was how when I stepped out into the Entrance Hall with Tom and made my way to the center of the crowd to look up at all of it, the student body began slowly parting, forming a circle around myself and Tom. My only instinct was to back into the crowd as well, and both Tom and I did manage to, but that didn't end the fear. They continued looking towards me, whispering, and I knew what they were all thinking. _I_ had done this, _I_ was Slytherin's Heir. Indeed I was Slytherin's Heir, but I didn't understand how they could have expected me to psychotically paint words on the wall in blood or some similar liquid overnight (then again, who would suspect Tom?). The worst I had ever done to a large group of people at one time was organized all of Slytherin House to throw rocks at the Gryffindor Quidditch team in my third year, and I had taken the blame for that entirely. This, though, wasn't me. It wasn't my style and it wasn't anything I could ever do, alone or otherwise.

I was almost considering backing out of it all at that point, when I saw just how many were going to point the finger at me. Even some teachers were looking at me in an utterly flabbergasted manner. When I heard a feeble voice calling for silence as its owner made its way to the front of the crowd to look up at the atrocity, everyone did indeed grow silent (except me, as I was already at a complete lack of words). Headmaster Dippet saw the rooster first, no doubt, and then read the words, and I saw him turn to look towards all of us.

"Everyone, move on to the Great Hall. That isn't a suggestion!" he added when he saw that quite a few were only going to continue to gawk. He then began calling people out of the crowd…. "Er, Albus – Herbert, you as well, and you Horace! Abraxas, if you wouldn't mind? And – Filius, there you are, barely saw you there – and where is… there, Gaunt! Come here at once!"

I flinched, froze, considered faking passing out on the patch of floor I was standing upon to avoid confrontation, and then decided not to all in a matter of a few milliseconds. My feet carried me automatically (though reluctantly) over to Dippet, just as the Heads of House (with a no doubt soon to be Head of House among them) were joining him. There was Herbert Beery, the head of Hufflepuff and Herbology Master. Slughorn, of course, who would most likely be taking over as Head of Slytherin soon. Abraxas Malfoy was the current head, and taught Arithmancy. Albus Dumbledore, who was in the department of Transfiguration, and Filius Flitwick of Charms, had both recently been named the Heads of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

If any time was ripe for me to be intimidated, that time was now. Any one of them could have kicked me out of Hogwarts with no more than a snap of their fingers.

"Mr. Gaunt," said Dippet – it surprised me to hear him use any formal address in front of my name, but I suppose he was a bit scared if he thought I had opened the Chamber of Secrets, "is this your work?"

"No sir," I said, attempting to maintain a tone of someone trying to remain calm who was really scared out of their wits. "I – I've no idea who would have done something like this."

I continued staring up at those glowing red letters, trying to pretend that I wasn't surrounded by people I couldn't get rid of just by hexing.

"Are you sure of it?" said Dippet, his tone sharp. "I've got plenty of ways to find out if you're lying."

"Sir," came Dumbledore's voice next, "I might take care in reminding you that the use of Veritaserum on any student at this school is prohibited strictly by both the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts's own rules."

Was Dumbledore actually on _my_ side in this, with as much as I often tortured the students of his house? If he was, I'd be grateful forever. Whoever's side Dumbledore was on was almost always the winning side. He practically ran the school most of the time. Dippet was rather frail and easily flustered, so Dumbledore was forced to make many important decisions. He also had a better understanding of the students than Dippet ever had.

"Yes, that is correct, but other methods are not prohibited. Legilimency is allowed, we could call in someone skilled in such arts, I'm sure no expert would be needed." I grinned inwardly – despite the situation I was in, that had amused me in the slightest bit. _No expert would be needed._ I hoped Dippet did call someone in, he'd be in for quite a surprise.

"I hope," said Malfoy, and I took particular care in not looking towards _him_, "Timothy, that you didn't do this. I'd hate to see someone from my own house expelled for something so petty. Headmaster, you can't actually believe that such a thing even exists, can you?" he said. "This is likely the doing of someone in my house looking to unnerve the other students as a practical joke of utterly abysmal taste, but not a proper threat of any sort. I see no need to panic."

"Definitely not," agreed the short, rather squeaky Professor Flitwick. "Too many experts have searched for it and not found it for any student to be able to. It must be simple trickery!"

"Regardless of whether it is or not," said Dumbledore, "we must take proper precautions. Herbert, for instance – you could start some of your classes raising mandrakes, as they heal many different ailments, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Indeed they do, and I normally have my classes raise them starting 'round this time of the year as it is, a brilliant suggestion. And I'm sure Horace is prepared to make any potion needed in case of an emergency?"

"W – wait," I said, finally looking back down from the message at all of them, "if this _is_ real, then couldn't students end up _dead?_"

They all seemed to examine me in silence at this. I had expected Dippet and Malfoy to look at me suspiciously, but they were joined also by Beery and Flitwick. Dumbledore and Slughorn, however didn't seem overly suspicious. Slughorn looked amazingly cheery for such a situation, but he normally _did_ look overly cheery in any situation – though that cheer seemed to be accompanied by a bit of moroseness and confusion that expressed he wasn't sure if this was even real or not. Dumbledore didn't seem suspicious, just curious. Dippet was the first to speak.

"That's assuming this is real, first of all," said Dippet, sounding at least slightly irritated, "and if that's the case, then what can be done to reverse death? Do you have any ideas?"

"Headmaster," said Dumbledore calmly, "Timothy is quite right. We must take necessary precautions to guard the castle, so death can be _prevented_. We may have to appoint more than just Prefects to guard the halls at night; other trusted students who don't have the Prefect status and a few teachers, for instance. Hogwarts needs to be better protected outside and in, if there is some sort of… ah – _presence_ here that could harm witches and wizards, we surely don't want it escaping out into the world. It's better to have it locked within the school where it can't escape."

Dippet blinked a few times. "Yes, I suppose that does make sense. Albus, Filius, I will trust both of you to strengthen the enchantments around the school. Herbert, the mandrakes, as Albus suggested, and Horace, I'm sure your extensive knowledge of Potions will be a great help to the cause. Abraxas, please keep a watch on all members of your house for any suspicious activity at all. If you suspect anyone is out after hours or doing something they shouldn't be, then report them to me at once."

All of the teachers were instructed to head off, as I was instructed to go on into the Great Hall. I was extremely grateful that the Slytherin table was nearest to the door on that particular morning, for my own house (most of whom were solely devoted to "Lord Voldemort's" plans of Muggle purging) wasn't going to start bothering me about the message regarding the Chamber of Secrets. I took my usual seat at the table, rather surprised to find that Annabelle had somehow managed to steal Tom's seat without being cursed, and that Tom was nowhere in sight.

"You're not being expelled, are you?" was the first thing she said as I sat down, sounding genuinely concerned.

"No," I said. "Dumbledore took my side, and I should be safe unless he changes his mind. It wasn't my doing anyway," I added. "No doubt people will think it was."

"Well, you are –"

"A Gaunt, yes, I know," I said, irritated more than ever by that little fact, "which means I technically _am_ the heir of Slytherin, but I'm certainly not mad enough to paint something like that in blood on the front doors of the castle."

Annabelle looked around for a moment, then back at me. "Then you didn't have anything to do with it?" she asked quietly. I could have sworn she sounded almost disappointed. That didn't make any sort of sense for her; what in the world had Tom said to her? She definitely didn't have the air about her of someone under the Imperius Curse. People under it, regardless of how well the spell was cast, seemed to be stuck in a zombie-like state of ignorance, ready to obey the caster at any given moment. Annabelle seemed to be thinking for herself, just thinking differently than what was normal for her.

Of course, I had always managed to avoid this sort of topic with her after finding out about her family. She was a prideful pureblood from a family of blood traitors, people who had made her hate everything to do with the tolerance of Muggles and Muggleborns and Squibs. It wouldn't surprise me that she would support such witches and wizards from being eliminated from the population of Hogwarts' students, but for her to want to openly talk about it in the Great Hall seemed a bit off.

"I can't say."

"Then you _are_ helping Tom," she said, and I raised my eyebrows. "He told me he was planning something to get _them_ out of Hogwarts that you knew about, and that it was why you were being so distant. I never thought it would be this big, I suppose you were right to want to stay behind. I can't believe anyone actually _found_ the Chamber," she added quietly. "I know both of you are smart, but the other three founders couldn't even locate it after Slytherin left, and they were _brilliant_."

"Slytherin was just a little bit smarter," I said, glancing back behind me at the rest of the Great Hall. I immediately drew my attention back to the Slytherin table, however, upon finding that half of the student body were whispering and pointing in my direction. "And I wasn't the one who found it, I didn't even help, he just informed me he had. Did you get your cloak back?"

"Oh, no," she said, smiling, "I imagine it can be used for more important things this year than my sneaking into Hogsmeade in the middle of the night. I… am sorry I got so angry. I still think I'm right that Tom's changed since his first year, and not necessarily for the better, but his plans for the Wizarding World are… just _brilliant_, I can't even _begin_ to fathom how a sixteen year old could think up such ideas."

"Yes, speaking of Tom," I said, growing more suspicious with every passing second, "where did he head off to?"

"He said he was going back to the common room for something, why – where're you going?" she asked as I stood.

"Er – I need to go get something from the common room," I said, before heading quickly for the door.

I honestly couldn't comprehend what he could have possibly said to her to turn her into one of his brainwashed followers overnight. I walked past the front doors of the castle without a single glance at them and hurried through the dungeons, barely aware of my surroundings as they passed by me, until I reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. I practically barked the password "Serpenttongue" at the damp patch of wall, waited for it to fade, and walked into the common room as the wall rematerialized itself behind me. I saw Tom stand from a chair as I entered.

"About time," he said. "We have to get to the Chamber." He tossed me something, which I caught and found to be Annabelle's invisibility cloak. "You're under more suspicion than I am, so I suggest you wear that on the way there. I still have the broomsticks," he added, heading towards the stairs to the boys' dormitories. "As it is daylight, I suggest you carry them underneath the cloak. God forbid Albus Dumbledore should see me pacing the castle carrying those around, I'd become the lead suspect in an instant. I suppose he got you out of trouble with Dippet?"

"Wh – you – what?" I said loudly as he stepped onto the first step of the staircase. "Yes, but –"

"That's good, I guessed Dumbledore would trust you enough. Wait there, I'm getting the broomsticks, we'll obviously need them to get back out of the Chamber."

I shook my head incredulously as Tom hurried up the staircase. He couldn't expect to be able to avoid confrontation like this, just by changing the subject before I even started talking about it, could he? It certainly had worked for that period of time. I had to plan something to say. I leaned against the wall and thought for a moment. When I heard footsteps coming back down the stairs, I had decided on my question, I would simply ask what he said to Annabelle.

However, the moment I opened my mouth to speak, he cut me off by walking past me and handing me the brooms. "Don't waste time, put the cloak on. And it wouldn't be wise to talk, anyone walking past would think I'm talking to myself if I reply to someone who's actually invisible, which is a sign of insanity in both the Muggle and the Wizarding World." I shook my head, but threw the invisibility cloak over me and the two broomsticks and followed Tom out into the dungeon corridors.

"What did you say to Annabelle?" I asked quietly.

"I already told you," he replied. "I told her what I told you I'd tell her last night, and I didn't have to use Legilimency. Why?"

"Because she's acting like she's been brainwashed."

"Like she's under the Imperius Curse?"

"Not so much, no," I said, still quietly in case someone came out from around a corner. "But she apologized for something I did, which I'm still not entirely sure I understand. She apologized for her getting angry, but considering I was the one who got her angry and she's usually stubborn enough to hold onto things like this –"

"All I told her was about my plans for the Wizarding World. I didn't mention the Chamber of Secrets by name, but I did mention that I was working on something to get Muggleborns out of Hogwarts that you were helping me with, and that it was dangerous enough that one wrong move could get either of us killed," said Tom. "I didn't lie, I didn't use any magic to convince her, I just managed to talk her over to my side. I suppose she apologized because she didn't realize how serious all of it was."

"I suppose, but it's still odd…"

We both grew quiet at the sound of footsteps down the dungeons, and I was unsurprised that they turned out to belong to Slughorn. I didn't think he had yet headed back to his office yet after my brief (thanks to Professor Dumbledore, who I now had a new sort of respect for) interrogation. Slughorn stopped Tom for a moment, and I chose to as well. I surely wasn't about to head to the Chamber of Secrets and speak with a giant snake alone, that would have been simply _loony_.

"Nasty thing, this 'Chamber of Secrets' nonsense, isn't it?" Slughorn was saying to Tom. I leaned back against the wall as much as I could – no doubt Slughorn would notice if he bumped into something invisible in the middle of the dungeons.

"I wouldn't think much of it," said Tom. "Even if it exists, no one at this school would be willing to open it. It's most likely a trick."

"Oho, but that's the thing right there – the staff in charge of investigating everything determined that rooster to have been killed by the Killing Curse, which it's doubtful any student would know as it is! And even if they do," he added, "then I personally doubt they would use it as part of a trick. What's more is Blanell showed up in the castle yesterday claiming someone had killed half of the chickens in the pens by his hut, no doubt the same who did this. Professor Dumbledore proposed questioning the students who didn't head to Hogsmeade yesterday, disregarding those in their first and second year who have doubtfully learned magic that advanced." He gave a quick glance down at his watch. "Oh, the time – loads of work to do, they've set me in charge of any medicinal potions we might need in case this does turn out to have some truth behind it. Must be going. Good day, Mr. Riddle."

And he set off, Tom half-glaring after him. We continued walking, and when he was out of earshot, Tom spoke quietly. "That was a mistake. Using the Killing Curse, I should have known they'd be able to detect it. It _is_ easily detectable. They'd die without showing any signs of health issues, no blood –"

"Then what was used on the door in the entrance hall?" I asked.

"_Aguamenti_," he said. "I transfigured the water _into_ a similar substance, then used a permanent sticking charm so they'd have trouble removing it. Everything there was mostly just for effect; no one would believe the Chamber might actually be opened if I had decided to write it on the wall in ink. They didn't have to believe it for it to work, I just had to give an alert to the castle before releasing the Basilisk."

A substance similar to blood with a dead chicken hanging over it. That would be nightmare material for any first years – regardless of being an heir myself, had I been in my first year and seen that, I surely would have dreamt of monsters slithering out of the dark through the corridors and dungeons with the letters painted in a "substance similar to blood" gleaming in its wake. The castle was in severe danger now, and I was helping it into a state of further danger. Was it right? Certainly not. It was my own cowardice that kept me going, my own fear that I would be the serpent's first victim if I backed down now. I was just a selfish teenager. I was one of those types that believed, in the back of their minds, that their lives were far superior to those around them. So I had to keep going. If I stopped, I'd be killed, and that was the last thing I wanted. The castle would have been better off if I had stood up, for the sake of Hogwarts and the innocents that roamed its halls, and allowed my life to be taken for the sake of justice.

Lately, I wonder whether _I_ would have been better off.


	7. Ch 6: Victim

**Chapter 6**: Victim

Hoorah! Glad I'm done with it.

Cameos from school age Augusta Longbottom (Neville's grandmother), Algie Longbottom (his great uncle), Enid Longbottom (his great aunt - I gave her a different last name, as it's assumed often that she was Algie Longbottom's wife), and Minerva McGonagall (no introduction needed XD), anyone? I love cameos :)

So, here is chapter six. Regular disclaimer, I own nothing except my original characters and ideas.

Here ya go!

* * *

After the Basilisk's first victim was taken to the Hospital Wing, it all started to seem a bit more real to me. It was on the same day Tom and I headed down to the Chamber of Secrets to release the monster from its underground prison, to allow it to roam freely through the pipes, through the walls of Hogwarts.

And the first victim wasn't even Muggleborn. Almost as though the monster itself was attempting to incriminate me further, the first victim was Algie Longbottom. He wasn't killed; he was lucky. Judging by the scene he was found in, he had seen the Basilisk in the mirror of the boys' bathrooms on the second floor. He was lying in front of one of the sinks, stiff as a board, looking quite frightened. He had only seen a reflection, so –

"The effects weren't as serious as they could have been," Tom was explaining.

When I heard about the attack myself, I had fled to my regular brooding grounds – the bed of the lake by the castle, standing against a tree and staring blankly out at the water, wondering vaguely when I'd be called into Dippet's office to be expelled. Tom was absolutely thrilled with the quick results the release of the Basilisk had. Already, a blood traitor had been gotten rid of. Unfortunately, everyone at the school knew quite well that that particular blood traitor and I were mortal enemies.

"If he had turned to look straight at the Basilisk without looking up at the mirror, he'd have been killed instantly," Tom continued, pacing restlessly in front of the lake. I didn't have to bother looking over to know. The sound of footsteps and his voice growing repeatedly louder and quieter alerted me to it. Pacing was generally something he did when speaking of something he found exceedingly interesting, whether it was domination over the Muggle world or the cleansing of Hogwarts by means of a Basilisk. "The suspicion that it was you might go up a bit now."

"A bit?" It had really been the first thing I had said with any enthusiasm since Tom had managed to locate me, and it caused him to stop his pacing. "A _bit_?" I repeated. I shook my head rapidly. "I'll be expelled the moment Dippet sees me. No doubt this turned Dumbledore away from my side, he knows Longbottom and I can't be left alone in a classroom together without one or both of us ending up in the Hospital Wing. It looks more than a bit suspicious. The only known heir to Slytherin at Hogwarts is me, Longbottom is the first to get it after the heir leaves his message, what do you reckon they'll think?"

"That you opened the Chamber, obviously, but they already thought that to begin with, didn't they?" said Tom. "I'd be more worried about Enid Quintin if I were you." I raised my eyebrows.

"Longbottom's girlfriend?"

"Fiancé. And she's out to kill you. She's in Dumbledore's office right now, I'm fairly sure he's trying to talk some sense into her. There's quite a high chance he might still be on your side."

"No," I said with a sigh, looking back out at the lake disinterestedly. "He just knows that someone's going to die either way eventually, and he'd rather postpone the inevitable to keep the student body under control. The Chamber has been opened, any idiot can understand that. And every time it's opened, at least one Mudblood will end up dying before it's closed."

"True enough," said Tom. "I'm hoping that won't occur until the end of our seventh year, however, as I'd prefer for Hogwarts to stay open for the remainder of the time that I'm going to be spending here."

I shut my eyes in annoyance. That was what was going to keep him going in all of this; the only thing that he was worried about was himself. His best friend is suspected to be the heir of Slytherin who opened the Chamber of Secrets? Oh, at least it's not him. As long as it's not him, everything is all swell and dandy, nothing could bloody go wrong. Tom knew that Dippet would go through expelling everyone in Slytherin before even thinking it could possibly be Tom. And when he got down to Tom, it would be likely for him to go through the rest of the houses first. Dumbledore may not have trusted Tom, and Dumbledore may have practically run the school in those days, but if it had to do with Tom misbehaving in any way, shape, or form, Dippet would hear nothing of it.

I slid down my tree and to a sitting position as I listened to Tom for a bit longer. "Not sure who it should be," he was saying. "We know already that the Basilisk can pick out both blood traitors and Mudbloods, probably halfbloods as well, which means that it could easily pick out someone. But for who it's going to actually kill, I think that one should be hand picked. Someone popular, probably Gryffindor. Mudblood rather than just a halfblood or blood traitor."

"Hmm," I half-agreed absently, still staring out at the lake, now laying my head sideways on my bent knees. "Sure."

I tuned out nearly everything else, nodding in agreement occasionally or coming back into reality to make sure he wasn't asking me a question. I doubted he would. I was more an outlet than anything when he started ranting, as he would have looked utterly foolish walking around and talking to himself about it.

What made me stir slightly after God only knows how long was the fact that I realized Tom had stopped talking and someone else had started. I stood up and looked around to see what he was focused on and while I didn't see what it was at that very moment, I heard it almost instantly.

"Augusta, listen, _please_ –"

"No! My little brother is in the hospital wing because of that son of a bitch and I'm going to kill him! You're not dragging me off to Dumbledore or Dippet or any of the stupid old geezers running this place, I'll _kill him_!"

I blinked a few times, and then flinched. If it was the "Augusta" I was thinking it was, then I was halfway considering running into the forest upon first sight of her. Augusta Longbottom was the older sister of Algie, and if it was her, I was dead. She was probably twice my size – I'd been thin as a rail since I started school and tall to boot, but she was a few inches taller than me at least and could likely punch me hard enough to knock my brains out of my ears.

"You're being completely irrational! I don't want to have to take points away from my own house!" came the next voice. "Don't do this!"

"You can do whatever you want, Minnie, I don't give a damn! It's not your brother in the hospital wing looking like a statue, now is it?"

"There's not even any proof that –"

"The entire school knows who he is, don't play stupid! No wonder you weren't put in Ravenclaw, you haven't got the sense of a flobberworm."

And offended noise replied to this, and then the same voice began chiding away at Augusta Longbottom again. "Detention Monday night! And it'll be fifty points from Gryffindor if you keep on with this, Augusta, I swear it will!"

"You keep saying that, you haven't actually done it yet," said Augusta boredly. "I'm surprised at you. Head Girl and not willing to take points away from your own house, you weren't given that badge just as decoration, you know."

Tom looked over at me. "You realize you're going to get murdered if you don't do anything?" he said. "Run or something?"

"Maybe if I die and Mudbloods keep getting petrified, they'll realize they made a mistake and start examining people I consider my friends," I said nonchalantly. Where had _that_ come from? Whatever it was, it worked; Tom's expression turned from slightly amused to one of surprise.

"That's actually true," he said slowly.

"So perhaps it's you that needs to be thinking of something to keep yourself from being thrown in Azkaban, eh?" I said, feeling like I was pushing my luck but lacking the self control to stop myself.

"Minerva, give me back my wand right _now_! I don't want to have to hurt you!"

My head whipped back around my shoulder. The two girls were now in view. There was Augusta Longbottom of course, rounding on a rather scared-looking Minerva McGonagall. She was standing her ground, however, pointing her wand at Augusta while hiding Augusta's behind her back, but the effect of this was somewhat voided by her backing towards a tree. "I-I have a wand and you haven't, I _can_ stop you! Ten points from Gryffindor! Three detentions – no, four! Now come back to the castle, Professor Dumbledore said he wanted to see you!"

"_Locomotor Mortus!_"

I looked at Tom in only enough time to see him pocketing his wand and walking swiftly over to the two arguing, just as Augusta Longbottom was falling onto the ground with her legs locked together, stiff as a boards. I hurried after him and caught up with him before he reached either of them. "Thanks for that," I said with a sigh of relief. "I'll be heading back to the Slytherin common room before anyone else can attempt that."

"Probably a good idea."

I stopped at the scene with Tom for a moment, just long enough for Augusta to yell a few obscenities in my general direction while attempting to stand up so she could "rip my bloody head off of my shoulders."

"Riddle," McGonagall began sternly, pointing her wand again. "You –"

"I would very much appreciate it if you would lower your wand, McGonagall," he said patiently. "That was entirely necessary. At least one student has already been attacked by someone today, and we don't need another joining him in a body bag, do we?" I glared at Tom at this, then started back towards the castle before I could say anything that might get me a detention courtesy of McGonagall.

"I suppose not," I heard McGonagall reply behind me shortly. "Gaunt, come back here for a moment!" she added. I headed back a few feet.

"What?" I said impatiently – I completely lacked the gift of hiding my tone that Tom seemed to have mastered. "Going to give me a detention for suspicion of Heir of Slytherin?"

"No, and in case you failed to notice, I was attempting to stop you being murdered," she said in her regular curt tone. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Professor Dumbledore instructed me to give you this," she said, handing it over. "I imagine it has a time and date for you to head to either his or Headmaster Dippet's office. Until that time, I suggest you should keep to your common room. You'll likely be welcomed there as a hero."

I clenched my fist around the letter, thought better of my initial instinct, and said, "I don't much appreciate your tone. I've nothing to do with this, and anyone who has is bloody mad. My father might have done it when he was in school if he'd been intelligent enough, but I wouldn't even claim relation to that bastard if I could avoid it."

"Is that so?"

"Very much so," I said. "If family had to do with anything, I don't suppose you'd have been in Gryffindor."

I turned and headed in the direction of the castle, opening the now crumpled letter envelope as I went. I pulled out a piece of parchment and read the loopy, slanted scrawl upon it.

_Timothy Gaunt,_

_Headmaster Dippet requested I alert you that your presence_

_is required in his office tonight at seven o'clock sharp. You are_

_to meet your head of house in the entrance hall and he will  
escort you there. Failure to arrive on time or at all will only _

_result in further trouble, so I am hopeful that you will appear_

_there on time._

_Until that time, I suggest only out of concern for your safety  
that you remain in your common room for the remainder of_

_the day, unless accompanied by a large group. There are_

_many students who believe you to be responsible for the fate_

_of Algie Longbottom, as well as many members of staff. I_

_suggest you be careful around the castle._

_Most sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

I scoffed under my breath. "'Most sincerely,' my arse…" I grumbled, crumpling the paper more and stuffing it into my pocket. I avoided crowds of angry students on the way into the castle, and not just Gryffindors. There weren't any Slytherins around. I wondered vaguely if they were all in the common room looking to confront me about it. I had every intention of lying. _I haven't got anything to do with this, get the bloody hell away from me!_ Truthfully, I wasn't sure I wanted anything to do with it anymore. All right, I was _sure_ I didn't want anything to do with it, to be entirely truthful. There's absolutely no point denying it. Tom roped me into it in the first place. It was my own curiosity that kept me going through that grimy system of pipes, or that made me take the leap into the one in the girls' bathrooms in the first place, but it was him that gave me that curiosity. He bloody provoked me.

I really knew in the back of my mind that I could blame no one but myself. Sure, Tom was the head in all of this, but I was following him out of my own fear. To this day, I don't know whether I was more afraid of losing a friend, being forced to have a good heart to heart, eye to eye with the Basilisk, or Tom killing me himself. I was almost sure it was the second of the three, but it could have very well been the third. I had the option of either living through all of this and just getting expelled – not too bad, right? My own father was expelled and he's getting by. – or giving up and being murdered. It wasn't a wonderful situation, it wasn't glorious, and I didn't see the point at all. Tom was obsessed, I was scared out of my bloody mind. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I wasn't a stupidly bloody valiant and brave Gryffindor.

I passed my head off house on my way down into the dungeons and attempted to walk past him briskly and inconspicuously, but I tripped over my own feet in the process – inconspicuousness had never been a strong point of mine.

"Gaunt, there you are," said Malfoy, turning on his heel to look at me. I stopped in my tracks after a moment of self debate about just running. "I'm going to ask you this in as simple a way as I can. Did you have anything to do with what has happened with Algie Longbottom?" I opened my mouth to answer, but he continued. "Keep in mind, lying isn't going to do you any good."

"I had nothing to do with it, sir," I said. "You know my preferred methods with that duffer as well as I do, you've had to debate with Headmaster Dippet over whether or not to expel me over it at least a good seventy times since I started school. And if it was me," I added, "I'd have picked someone different for the first victim rather than someone the entire school _knows_ I hate."

He examined me a moment, surely attempting to detect a flinch in my set expression, anything that could incriminate me in the slightest. "That's as good an answer as any," he said. "I honestly wondered whether or not you would stoop to hexing that sort of an idiot when you could just as easily put him in the hospital wing with – what was it, your 'methods'? I'm not saying I trust you any more than before, just that it seems to suspicious for it to be means to incriminate you by yet."

"If you say so, sir." I had to fight grinning at the look of annoyance developing on Abraxas Malfoy's face.

"Go on to your common room," he said. "Before you get lynched by an angry mob of Gryffindors."

"Exactly what I was doing when you stopped me. Good day, sir."

He didn't return the goodbye as he turned around and continued on his way. I hurried into the Gryffindor-free dungeon. I hadn't even thought that anyone might consider it _too_ suspicious that Algie Longbottom was the heir's first victim. Maybe that would be a point for my side of the argument. Perhaps it would be something I could use when Dippet interrogated me. The man wasn't very intelligent, but Dumbledore could help him see reason. If Abraxas Malfoy was smart enough to notice how suspicious it was compared, then Dumbledore might have still been on my side of the fight. I definitely hoped so, as it seemed Dumbledore was my only hope at not getting expelled over this.

I reached the common room entrance and said the password to the patch of wall brightly. However, my brightness faded when I walked into the commonroom and found half of Slytherin – the half that supported Tom's ambitions, specifically – waiting for me. I had been slightly worried about confrontation, but the praise that was awaiting me turned out to be far, far worse. They were just as bad as the rest of the school, all thinking it had been me, but they were quite a bit more accepting of it, it seemed. I hurried through the crowd and to the staircase to the boys' dorms, where I turned on them all. My expression must have matched my outlook towards them, for everyone silenced and backed away from me a few steps.

"I'm going to say this one last time," I said slowly. "I'm _not_ the heir – technically I am," I added thoughtfully, "– but I'm not the one doing this." More hubbub at this, and it sounded mostly disbelieving. I felt my fist clench. "It's not me!" I yelled over top of all of them. They silenced again.

"Well, who is it, then?" asked someone – a third year I only recognized by sight.

"I haven't got a bloody clue," I said, and turned to make my way up the stairs.

And the one thing that made me at least slightly happy, though the talking had started again, was that I didn't hear anyone following me.


	8. Ch 7: Insubordination

_Wow. I've had this chapter finished for going on a week and I haven't posted it yet._

_Oops._

* * *

The wall – the stupid, damp, dark, _stupid_ stone dungeon wall. Maybe it would break in half if I continued glaring at it for long enough. That would offer some sort of amusement, perhaps a distraction that I might be killed by either a giant snake or one of Slytherin's more loyal heirs in the next twenty-four hours. I was really beginning to consider telling Tom I was out, that I just couldn't take this anymore. Call me a coward, but I was scared senseless by the entire concept at this point. I just wanted out. People might continue thinking it was me, it was all my fault, that I had attempted to kill Algie Longbottom and accidentally petrified him instead, but I could assure myself that nothing that happened from this point forward had anything to do with me if I dropped out of it.

Even if I didn't last for more than twenty-four hours following my forfeit of association with the Chamber.

It had been no more than a few minutes since I had come up the stairs. In fact, I had just sat down in the middle of my bed in the sixth year dormitory. I did feel a bit brilliant for having the idea of swiping the invisibility cloak from between Tom's mattress and bed frame to throw over myself. Even if anyone did come up the stairs, who would notice me? No one. It would be impossible for them to notice something invisible. Tom might; I had a feeling that if it was at all possible to think loudly, then I was definitely doing it right now.

It hadn't been the wall that had primarily annoyed me, it had been the brigade of idiots down in the common room waiting to cheer me on for doing what I did to Algie Longbottom that had done that. Now though, the more I stared at the wall opposite me, the more I just wanted to punch a hole through it. I had broken my knuckles before (on Longbottom's face, no less), so another time couldn't hurt. Just head to the Hospital Wing and

_(get tackled by an angry mob of Gryffindors)_

let Madam Millden take care of it. That would be a fun conversation. How did this happen, you ask? Well you see, my regular target is lying over in _that_ bed in a statuesque state, so I decided to punch out a wall instead. Yes, quite fun indeed. I clenched my fist over a patch of loose bed quilt and let it go. I decided to just continue glaring at the wall though the semi-transparent cloak.

My fist clenched again when I heard footsteps by the door into the dormitory, which I had left fully open. There was a rather amused laugh, and it wasn't a wonder. Before sitting on my bed to contemplate whether or not to give the wall a good beating, I had taken everything out on the green hangings over my bed. They were now lying across the room. I would probably repair them later, I just wasn't sure when.

I didn't glance over when my bed sank on my right side. I crossed and continued having my stare down with the sightless wall. I heard sigh then.

"I know you're here, Timothy, the mattress is dented in the middle," said a solemn voice.

"How do you know it's not because you're sitting there?"

"Because you just spoke," said the voice, now sounding slightly amused, though more sympathetic. I gave a low sigh of annoyance when the invisibility cloak was pulled off of me, my eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't you realize denying your involvement in this isn't doing you any good?"

I looked over at Annabelle. She recoiled a bit – I supposed my face was set to auto-glare, but I didn't bother switching the setting over, as I looked back at the wall a moment later. The wall deserved to be glared at. I wasn't entirely sure why it deserved it, I just knew that it did. "Would you want to be associated with it?" I asked frigidly.

"Timothy, it's _useless_ denying it," she said, shaking her head. "No one suspects Tom, no, but that's because they only know you to be one of Slytherin's heirs, because of your family. You're going to be associated with it no matter how much you deny it. You would be even if you had absolutely no involvement in it. You would be if you had been sorted into Gryffindor your first year. That comes with your family name."

I flinched slightly. "Had I been sorted into Gryffindor my first year, I wouldn't have lived to see my twelfth birthday," I said, still grimacing at the thought.

"You know what I mean."

"And that wasn't what I asked you," I continued. "I asked you if you would want to be associated with it."

"No, no one would _want_ to be, not even by people who would support it," said Annabelle. "I wouldn't want anyone to know because it could get out over the castle and I'd be accused. As it is, though, everyone thought it was you from the moment the message was found on the doors in the entrance hall; it was speculation over your being a Gaunt. So regardless of how much you protest it, everyone's still going to think it's you. Admitting it to them won't change it."

"Is that so?" I said. "Right. Suppose Dippet gets permission from the ministry to use Veritaserum on students regarding this. Would I rather want them saying that I told them it was me, or that I denied it completely?"

"But," said Annabelle reasonably, "he _won't_ get permission from them. Dumbledore seems to be on your side, and he practically runs this school as it is, so it would be up to him to send a request to the Ministry."

"This would be something Dippet would go around Dumbledore to do," I said crossly, clenching my fists. "He doesn't want any of my family in his precious school, he was just looking for any reason to kick my father out his third year. The bastard gave him reason, of course, he set a bunch of snakes on the Gryffindors."

(_Which is technically what I'm doing, except it's one big snake and almost the entire bloody school, looks like I'm a Gaunt after all oh joy)_

"And now he thinks I've gone and opened the Chamber of Secrets. He'd do anything to prove it's me and get me out."

"I know, you –"

"You _don't_ know," I said through gritted teeth. "You don't know how it is being condemned for –" I stopped abruptly, but she chose to finish for me, sounding quite irritated.

"Being part of a family?" she said. "And yes I do, you damn well know that."

"Sorry…"

"Of course you are…. At least you got put in the house you 'belong' in. I'm barely welcomed at home over the summers for getting sorted into Slytherin. My mum's fine with it, but my father… let's just say I have every intention of living up to his current expectations of me. I am going to move away the moment I graduate and I _am_ going to take part in any anti-Muggle or anti-blood traitor movement I can. My brother's no better than him, thank _God_ he's not living at home anymore." She smiled wryly. "Anna Belinda _Potter_," she spat loathingly, then scoffed. "First one put in Slytherin in generations. I'm changing my name the moment I turn seventeen." She looked down at the invisibility cloak she was wringing out in her hands as though to get some sort of imaginary water out of it. "To Peverell. I'm sure my ancestors would have been more sensible about matters of Muggles than my more recent relatives are. None of them deserve to live, not one of them. They tried to kill us a few hundred years ago, and by their logic, they think they succeeded. I think they need a taste of their own medicine, if I'm to be honest, them and all of their supporters."

That name – Peverell, it struck me as familiar, but I didn't bother wondering about it. I was dumbstruck enough that Annabelle was saying _anything_ about her family. They were normally a subject she avoided at all costs; anyone who brought it up would find their head spinning from how quickly she would manage to change subjects or just leave the conversation entirely. Now, though, as I listened to her speaking of it openly, I was completely taken aback by it. I felt her hand on my shoulder and I looked over.

"Be glad you've gotten on for this long," she said. "There's not a day in this place that a Gryffindor doesn't walk past and asks about my brother just to spite _me_. They all know full well who I am. Most everyone else has forgotten by now, but anyone who ever said Gryffindors were caring or forgiving was on… _something_."

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to say that…"

She smiled and put her hand over my still-clenched fist. "It's all right," she said. "I've had to deal with it for longer, but what you're having to deal with is worse. I'm accused of going against my family name. You're accused of attempted murder. I think it's obvious which would make a bigger case in front of the Wizengamot. I mean, obviously being a traitor to the family name is worse than an attempted massacre of over half the student body of Hogwarts, right?"

I smiled. "Right."

"Just out of curiosity, why was Longbottom the first one? You both had to know it would make you seem even more to blame."

"I can't really tell you," I said. Annabelle didn't know about the Basilisk unless Tom had told her, and I didn't want to be to blame for her finding out anything she shouldn't know. "But I know he wouldn't have been my choice for the first one. I had hoped he wouldn't get it at any point in time, I knew exactly what it would do. I just narrowly escaped being killed by his older sister," I added with a laugh. "That huge girl, Augusta Longbottom."

Annabelle gave a laugh. "God, she could've snapped you like a bloody twig! What stopped her?"

"Minerva McGonagall took her wand. That just distracted her, though, she was about to snap McGonagall in half. I was trying to blend in with a tree, and Tom ended up using a Leg-locker hex on her and she fell over."

"How long ago?"

"Just before I came to the common room."

"_That_ explains why the portrait fell off the wall in the common room earlier." I raised and eyebrow. "That was called a joke?"

I blinked a few times. "I knew that."

"I don't think you did," she said, smiling. "But that's all right, you're adorable when you're confused. Of course, with as confused as you've been looking for the past few days, you should know that already."

"Do you…" I trailed off and hesitated for a moment, but continued. "Do you really think this is right?" I asked. "If this all works out properly in the end, then someone'll end up dead before the Chamber's closed. I'm not supportive at all of Mudbloods, but I'm just not entirely sure doing this and chancing Hogwarts being closed over it is–"

"That's not it, really. You just don't want to be responsible for killing anyone."

I shrugged. "Not while I'm still in school, at least…"

"If everything you say about your father is true, then I think you inherited loads of morals from your mother's side of your family," said Annabelle. "If you don't think it's right, then don't do it."

"I'm asking whether you think it's right," I said, directing my sight back to the wall to glare at it again. "I don't know what I think, that's why I'm asking what you think."

"You already know what I think about it, Timothy," she said with a sigh. "As long as it's going to get rid of the bloody _filth_ that goes through this castle, I'm a full supporter. But I'm not going to judge you if you don't want to keep doing it, it's your choice."

I shook my head. "I have the choice right now of either definitely staying alive or most likely being killed," I said. "The choice might be mine, but morals or not, I'm not really up to dying just yet."

"Then don't stop it. If you're not willing to die for your beliefs, then they're not strong enough beliefs for you to even consider dying for them. And I don't _want_ you to be killed…" she added sulkily, her head falling sideways onto my shoulder. "We've been dating for an entire year now. I know that's the longest any of _your_ relationships have ever lasted."

"And like yours have lasted any longer," I said with a laugh.

"Oh, bite me!" she said in an amused tone, lifting her head back up and pushing me. "I'm not half as bad as you are and you know it. Of course I didn't turn into a complete loudmouth until last year, so not much of anyone really noticed me," she said thoughtfully. "You and Tom have _both_ had your pick since our first year here. But you're the louder one, so you ended up with more of a pick."

"And that's good or bad?"

"Not sure. I don't care either way, you're mine now. Can't get you to do _anything_ I ask you to yet," she added slowly, "but I'm working on that."

I laughed. "Good luck with that."

"Thank you, I'm definitely going to need it. You have absolutely no _idea_ how stubborn you can be."

––

Though I had gone through hundreds of scenarios to avoid it, including but not limited to actually attempting to punch a hole in the stone wall or staging a fight with Tom in the Great Hall, I headed out of my safe haven at fifteen of seven and into the damp, cold dungeons. I didn't bother bringing Annabelle's cloak along with me, which I had also contemplated. I was to meet my head of house in the entrance hall, according to Dumbledore's letter, and Abraxas Malfoy would only use that as an excuse to get me into further trouble.

So simply, if anyone decided to taunt me, they would get a bit more than a taunt in return.

I was slightly disappointed when I arrived at the entry hall that there was no one there except the worst head of house any student at Hogwarts could have asked for. On the way there, I had been half-hoping I would manage to get into a fight that would deem me unfit for heading anywhere but the hospital wing. The last thing that I wanted was to speak to Dippet; I'd have preferred to have this meeting with the rather greasy-looking man already standing here, and that was saying quite a bit.

"I see you managed to drag yourself out of the common room."

I smiled wryly. "As if I would ever miss an opportunity to grace you with my presence, sir," I replied in a sarcastically bright manner that made Malfoy scowl. "Shall we be off to the second floor, then?"

"Indeed. And I would suggest you wipe that smirk off your face, Gaunt." Then there came the trademark Malfoy sneer as he continued, "You'll be lucky if you're still in Hogwarts by tomorrow."

"Then I haven't got much to lose, have I?"

"If I'm to be honest," he said, starting up the stairs with me following, "I'll be quite happy not to have you in my house anymore. If there's any reason we've been losing the house cup to Gryffindor for the past six years, then it's you. I'm not surprised. I went to school a few years with your father. To say the least you're a bit more intelligent, but you're definitely not well behaved."

"In contrast to a man who set a load of snakes on the Gryffindors, I'd say I'm a right angel."

"Oh, no, you're just attempting to rid the school of anyone you see unfit to attend."

I gave a snort of laughter that caused him to look back. "Honestly, _sir_," I said, "the Malfoys share the same opinions as almost any other pureblood family with a right opinion of the Wizarding World. Even if it was me doing this, you wouldn't have much of a right to criticize me for it."

"Is that so?"

"Quite," I said happily. "We all know where your father is right now, What was it he was caught doing, using Muggles for slave labor?" I'd never been attacked by a teacher before, but I was fairly sure I would be if I kept up. Unfortunately, my mouth had a horrible habit of continuing even after I told it to stop. "I know it was something along those lines, and you never turned him in. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm fairly sure he also helped with the building of Nurmengard. Good friends with Grindelwald, wasn't he? He was all for the 'Greater Good,' and you are as well, aren't you? I'll bet Professor Dumbledore didn't have any say in the matter when Headmaster Dippet hired you, or you'd still be working part time at Borgin and Burkes as the delivery – sir, I think it's against the rules to point your wand at a student."

I crossed my arms and looked at him with raised eyebrows. He glared back, not lowering his wand. "You can hex me if you want, but I doubt it will go over very well. As long as I'm still a student here, you really can't do anything aside from assign me a detention or two, take away a good few points from the house, or report me to higher authority. Considering I'm already headed to the highest authority, there's really not anything you can do. You can take away points, but if your logic is right, I'm about to be expelled, so it really doesn't matter to me."

He glowered at me for a few moments longer. I had no doubt that he would have pushed me down the stairs if he thought he could have gotten away with it, but as it was, he knew he couldn't. I kept my arms crossed and continued looking back disinterestedly. With a scowl a moment later, he stowed his wand away and turned towards the door into the corridor the headmaster's office was located on. I followed him at a swift pace, resolving not to speak to him unless he spoke to me first. As we reached the gargoyle statue that guarded Dippet's office, he turned his head to the side to look at me.

"Twenty points from Slytherin for direct insubordination, Gaunt, I hate to take points away from my own house but it seems necessary with your behavior."

"I'm sure it's completely necessary, sir."

"And for future reference," said Malfoy, "my family derives from the noblest of pureblood families. Yours is only still alive because of a few inbred lunatics."

"I'm not as proud of my family as you are of yours, sir, so I'm sure you'll understand my lack of annoyance at your insulting them," I said. "I'd really rather not be late for this meeting, so would you mind?" I indicated the gargoyle by nodding at it. After another moment of glaring, in which he was no doubt silently debating over whether or not to curse me again, he turned to the gargoyle, mumbled a password quietly enough so I wouldn't hear it, and stepped aside for me to enter onto the staircase revealed when the gargoyle leapt aside.


	9. Ch 8: Interrogated

_Chapter 8 here. Chapter 9 shall be up tomorrow._

* * *

Sitting at the chair in the circular office of Headmaster Dippet, I gazed disinterestedly off to the side, out the window facing the mountains to the east of the school. Those there were Armando Dippet, Albus Dumbledore, Filius Flitwick, Herbert Beery, and Abraxas Malfoy, discussing something quietly enough so I couldn't hear a word of what they were saying. There was no doubt in my mind that Malfoy and Dippet were siding against me by the way Malfoy kept glaring. Dumbledore looked to be at his most peaceful state of utter disagreement, and Flitwick, whose head was barely visible over Dippet's desk, seemed to be in agreement with whatever Dumbledore was saying. Beery generally got along amiably with Dumbledore, so he had probably taken the same side.

I just wasn't entirely sure what side that was.

Dumbledore had to be mad if he still supported the idea that I was even partially innocent in any of this. I thought Malfoy might have taken my side a bit more after the quick word I had with him earlier, but after everything I said about his beloved family, he was probably just angry enough to claim that he had seen me acting suspiciously and make up an elaborate story to go along with it. None of that mattered. If I was kicked out of school, so be it. However, by the most unlikely chance that Dumbledore might still be on my side, I might just be lucky enough to be allowed to stay. I hoped I would be. I would be prone to patricide if I was sent home to live with the ogre that called itself my father.

"Gaunt." I glanced over when Dippet finally spoke up. "I daresay you know why you are here." I blinked, and he seemed to take this as a valid response. "Yes. I'm going to tell you straight out that unless you can come up with any proof or reasoning that you aren't behind this Chamber of Secrets nonsense, you may not be allowed to remain at Hogwarts for much longer."

I turned my head to consider the frail old man fully. "Is that so, sir?"

"Indeed it is."

"Then it's probably a good thing that I have a good bit of reasoning," I said. "Well, not a good bit, but at least one decent reason. Would you care to hear it?"

"Not particularly, but some of us believe that it is necessary." I noticed him glance off to his right side, where Dumbledore, Flitwick, and Beery were standing.

"Then I suppose I should enlighten you, sir." I sat up straighter. "You see," I said slowly, "the main reason this couldn't have been me is because I'm not an idiot." I struggled not to grin at the look of absolute loathing I received at this.

"Gaunt, this is an extremely serious matter here," said Dippet, strumming his fingers on the table in an impatient manner. "This is a question concerning whether or not you will be able to complete your education at Hogwarts and, in the most serious case, whether or not you should be sent to Azkaban on your seventeenth birthday."

"I'm fully aware of that, sir. If you wish for me to elaborate –"

"Go ahead, then!"

I nodded. "Anyone in my situation would be the least likely to have started something like this automatically. It's easy enough to see why, I suppose. I knew I would be suspected immediately if anything like this ever happened durring my time at Hogwarts. I knew that my first year, and I still know it, which is why I never would do something like this. When I saw the message the 'heir of Slytherin' left on the doors of the castle, I knew immediately I was going to be suspected. The person doing this is deliberately trying to incriminate me by making it seem as though I'm the one doing it. Everyone here knows that the Gaunts are Slytherin's last direct descendents. Everyone also knows that my relationship with Algie Longbottom isn't exactly friendly. If this was me, he would have been the last person to have been targeted. If I had done that, I would have been just _asking_ to be thrown out of school. Whoever's doing this, I can guarentee that they're purposely doing it to make me look like the guilty one."

Dippet looked very unconvinced. "Thank you for that tremendously rehearsed excuse, Gaunt."

"You're quite welcome, sir."

And at that, Dippet's fist landed on the desk with a dull thump. "Gaunt, you're in a bad enough situation as it is, now is most certainly _not_ the best time for you to be making jokes! Your reasoning is intelligent enough, but the facts are a bit overpowering. There was a message on the wall from the 'heir of Slytherin,' indeed, as well as a dead rooster hanging there. Do you know when it would have been killed?"

"No, sir."

"The day of the first Hogsmede trip, yesterday, and if my knowledge is correct, you decided to stay at the castle."

"I suppose it won't hurt to tell the truth," I said with a shrug. "I was out after hours Friday night and got back in a bit late. I was feeling a bit tired, so I decided to stay in on Saturday and work on an essay due for my Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The most I did to leave the castle was to attempt to figure out where Tom had gotten off to. I'd like to tell you my Saturday was a bit more interesting than that, but that would be a boldfaced lie."

"If you're so willing to be truthful, then why not enlighten us as to what you were doing out after hours on Friday night?"

"Sneaking into Hogsmeade."

"When the entire school would be going the next day?"

"The night life it just so much more lively." Seeing the look I received at this, I quickly continued; Dippet was right that I was currently in no place to be spouting sarcastic remarks. "Sorry, sir. I'll do my best to at least start keeping to the Slytherin common room after hours if you allow me to stay."

"I would hope so. Regardless, as you have admitted to being out after hours, the mandatory amount of points that need be taken from Slytherin is fifty." And I noticed the scowl I received from Malfoy at this. I bowed my head somberly in understanding.

"I understand, sir."

"Now, the best course of action to take would be the use of veritaserum, but unfortunately, the school has not been given this right. There are other methods." I grinned inwardly – the only other method Dippet would think of would be Legilimency. Dumbledore was the one professor in the school who knew full well that I had a rather extensive knowledge of Occlumency, as he was the only one who could use Legilimency. As he wasn't objecting at all to this, I knew it was safe to assume that he was still on my side. He might not be if I blocked him out now, but he was for the time being. If he asked me about it later, I could simply inform him that I know something about it that I can't divulge for fear of death or permanent injury.

"Even so," Dippet continued, "there isn't nearly enough evidence that this was your doing for us to lawfully be allowed to use _any_ methods yet. You're free to go for now. Just be warned that if it happens again, you will be back here."

I nodded, just barely managing to hide my surprise. I had been hoping to finish this tonight. "Even if I say I'd rather get this over with now, there wouldn't be anything you could do?" I checked.

"Nothing." Dippet sounded rather disappointed by this. "I myself do wish to get this over with quickly, but the Governing Board of Hogwarts has cast their vote and they do not believe the situation is yet serious enough for any action to be taken except interrogation."

And this was, of course, cause for an accidentally blurted out, "_What_?" Dippet looked at me oddly. "Someone's made a direct threat to the school and put Algie Longbottom in the hospital in practically the state of a statue. How is this not a serious enough situation?"

"That was all that they told me –"

"_Come to me…"_

The voice came to me suddenly. I nearly jumped, but managed not to as I continued to half-listen to Dippet. I knew what the voice was well enough. Of course no one else here would recognize it. That voice belonged to Slytherin's monster, the Basilisk. It was on an evening prowl, looking for some unfortunate Muggleborn roaming the halls, perhaps even a prefect, or perhaps – and this struck me quickly and quite hard – even a teacher? That wouldn't be good at all.

"_Let me rip you…"_

"… and therefore, until they can confirm this wasn't an incident brought about by a cowardly student – or even a teacher, for that matter – who won't strike again, it is not within my power to do anything other than interrogate you."

"Pity," I replied absently, still listening to the voice of the Basilisk

_("… tear you…. Let me kill you….")_

more intently than anything else. How far away could Tom hear it from, I wondered? Neither of us had heard it prior to Algie Longbottom being found on the floor of the bathroom – at least, I hadn't. I supposed there was a chance Tom had and he just hadn't mentioned it.

"_I smell blood…"_

I blinked a few times. That definitely couldn't be good.

"Abraxas, please escort Timothy as far as the Entrance Hall."

"I take it you'd still prefer it if I wasn't left alone, eh, sir?" I said, standing.

"Indeed I would."

"I suppose I can understand."

"_I SMELL BLOOD!"_

I refrained from flinching openly, and this caused my stomach to do a number of somersaults. Still, I followed Malfoy back to the spiraling staircase that lead up to this circular room of hell, only now it was to head back down. I tried to act as calmly as possible, but that last serpentine, hissing screech had come from somewhere close. I wasn't sure where it had come from, and I really didn't want to know. However, when Malfoy stepped back onto the second floor corridor and froze, I immediately knew exactly where it had come from. I reluctantly stepped out and into the hall, and I openly flinched at the scene.

It was a fifth year Hufflepuff; a prefect, but it was too early for them to be on duty. From how Leanne Larring was standing sideways against the wall, it was easy to see what had happened – for me, at least. She was holding a mirror in one hand and what looked like an eyeliner pencil in the other. The pencil was held close to her lower eyelid, and she was holding the mirror in front of her face, though off only a few centimeters to the right – anyone not looking for this tiny detail wouldn't have noticed it, but to me, it explained exactly why she wasn't dead. The look on her face was one of frozen terror, the sort of terror that could, indeed, petrify someone. She was still standing, quite well balanced against the wall, looking like some terribly placed, wrongly made statue.

Malfoy looked to his left at me, shaking his head. "Regardless of whether or not you're going to be expelled for this, it's quite amazing you managed to do it from Dippet's office without even batting an eyelash."

I gaped at him silently for a moment. "M – me?" I managed to sputter out incredulously. "I was a bit preoccupied to –" I pointed at her to indicate my point. "You're bloody mad!"

He stepped in front of the gargoyle and muttered the password again. It leapt aside, and before I knew what hit me, I was being dragged by my arm up the stairs, like a mother would drag her misbehaving toddler out of a store. "You've done a brilliant job of incriminating yourself this time, Gaunt –"

"Let go of – _ouch!_ – it only takes seven pounds of pressure to rip off an ear, you know! Son of a _bi_–"

And with that, I was dragged back into the office. He let me go, and my first instinct was to clap my hand over my ear, glare, and mutter a few unsightly phrases under my breath about where Malfoy could go, what he could do there, his low intelligence level, and what his mother was.

"I believe you will all want to come to the second floor corridor for a moment," said Malfoy in a calm manner – and I _really_ wanted to punch him, right in the bloody ear.

"What is it?" asked Dippet cautiously.

"Another victim."

All exchanged dark looks. I was giving Malfoy a rather dark look myself, but it was dark in an entirely different context. Basilisk-like, maybe, but I couldn't be sure since I planned to never even attempt to look that snake in the eye.

"And _Professor Malfoy_ here seems to think it was me who did it despite me being in here when it would have happened," I said through gritted teeth. "And in a violent rage," I added, pushing my luck, "I believe he attempted to rip my bloody ear off!"

"Be quiet," said Malfoy in annoyance. I glared at him a bit more.

I was forced back downstairs with the teachers, to see that poor girl again. I chose to stare at the opposite wall this time, however. I could only half hear them discussing what could have happened; I only heard Dippet and Malfoy mention my name. It was a little fuzzy, drowned out by my own voice, yelling at me

_(get out of this I have to get out of this I have to)_

within my head. I barely managed to refrain from yelling back at it, aloud, as it would have only made the five standing by to examine Larring question my sanity. I vaguely hear Dippet tell Beery and Flitwick to fetch Madam Millden – this left Dumbledore alone on my side, and Malfoy and Dippet to gang up on me.

"I honestly don't know how he managed it," said Malfoy. "For a curse of this magnitude to be performed through an entire floor of the castle – it's impossible to know how he even knew there was anyone walking in the hallway."

I shook my head and looked over. "Are you bloody _mad_?" I asked him. "I'm nowhere near smart enough to do – _that_ through a _wall_, much less an entire floor of the castle – most _seventh_ years wouldn't be."

"I believe he most likely would have had someone else do it for him," said Dippet, as though he hadn't heard a word I said. "No doubt at least a couple others know what he's been up to with this Chamber of Secrets business."

"He would most likely tell Tom Riddle, but I highly doubt _he_ would do anything of this sort."

"No, certainly not," Dippet agreed.

"The next most likely, if I dare to say it, would be my own son," said Malfoy in a slightly disgusted manner. "I would hate to think he was involved in this, but then again with his grades, I'm not entirely sure. Of course, it could be Annabelle Potts. She's certainly intelligent enough to–"

"Professor," I said sharply, through gritted teeth. He and Dippet, who had been absorbed into their conversation of who I could have sent to do this, turned their heads towards me. "I've never even thought to attempt to hit a teacher before, but you're really pushing it, sir."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Is that a threat, Gaunt?"

"Just don't bring her into this and it won't be anything," I said coldly.

I was allowed to go back to the Slytherin common room again after some time, after finding out that Dumbledore was still on my side. Brilliant or not, he had to be mad to trust me in the least bit – even Malfoy knew I didn't deserve to be trusted, and almost anything _any_ member of the Malfoy family knew was just general knowledge. While I hadn't been particularly happy that Malfoy saw fit to follow me as far as the entrance hall to make sure I couldn't commit any more atrocities with my apparent amazing petrifying mind powers, I was quite glad to be rid of him when I entered the dungeons.

However, I wasn't quite as glad when I entered the common room and saw that at least a half of everyone in Slytherin was there. None of them looked up as I entered, but I still glared around the room as I made my way through the crowd and to the stairs. As I headed up, I heard a voice within my head that wasn't my own.

"_How was the interrogation?"_

I glanced over my shoulder, back downstairs. I didn't see Tom, and assumed this meant he was most in our dorm – he hadn't seen me enter, but he knew I had. It wasn't overly unusual. When I focused, I could name anyone who entered the Slytherin common room even from Hogsmeade.

_Well, definitely could have been better,_ was my reply. _Did you hear it?_

"_The Basilisk? I believe so. It was fairly faint, but I assume it struck again from what I did hear clearly."_

I reached the dorm and opened the door. Tom, who was sitting alone, looking up from the book he had boredly been flipping through. "Oh, it did," I said with a scoff, moving over to my own bed. "And it did one hell of a job of it. Right outside Dippet's office." I fell backwards onto my own bed and stared at the arched stone ceiling.

"Really? Who?"

"Leanne Larring. Hufflepuff prefect, it looked like she had stopped in the hall to fix her makeup. Saw it in a mirror. I swear, it's almost like the bloody thing is trying to incriminate me on purpose," I said with a half-hearted laugh, flinching as I heard the words pass through my lips. I sat up on the side of the bed. If the time wasn't now, then it would be never. I had to say something. I _had_ to, I'd be stuck in this for the next two years if I didn't, unless I got kicked out of school first. "In all honesty," I continued after a moment's silence, "I don't think I'm going to be able to keep this up. I've got to back out."

Though hearing those words come into form was a great relief, I felt that I regretted them the moment they slipped out of my mouth.

* * *

_Cliffhanger, anyone? XP_


	10. Ch 9: Anger

_Chapter 9 now. Still working on Chapter 10, but it'll be done soon._

* * *

There was silence in the room, a terrible silence that seemed to fill my ears and pound my eardrums to the point that they were close to bleeding. Then, much to my surprise, Tom laughed. Not to say that was a good thing – I cringed at the high pitched, cold sound. It was odd, but most certainly was the same sardonic laugh that I heard so often over the summer holidays from my father. I did not at all appreciate being reminded of home while I was here at Hogwarts.

"It's a bit too late to be backing out," Tom said quietly, closing his book and looking towards me. "You're already suspected, and you've already sat through two students being turned to statues without saying anything to anyone. And besides, if I return to the Chamber again alone, who's to say the Basilisk won't recognize betrayal and come after you next?"

I pondered over his tone for a moment, unable to decipher whether that had been a warning or a threat. "It won't come after me if you tell it not to," I said, looking at him. "Would you really command it to kill me?"

"I wouldn't, no," said Tom, "but I can only control the Basilisk to a certain extent. I'm not particularly keen on making it angry, as it would then attack me. You may back out if you wish, but take into account that the Basilisk is the most powerful entity in this equation. If it refuses an order, I won't argue with it."

I smiled. "If it kills me, Hogwarts might be closed." I sensed a sudden change of power take place within the room. I knew Tom's greatest fear – no, second greatest fear, was Hogwarts closing. He couldn't bear the idea of being sent back to that orphanage until he was eighteen, to live there with an insufferable bunch of Muggles. However, this wasn't his _greatest_ fear, and I was afraid this might be overpowered by the greater. I continued my point anyway. "Regardless of how much Dippet wants me out of this school, I don't believe the governing board would allow the school to stay open if someone died there. Particularly not the main suspect in this Chamber of Secrets business. That would not only prove that it's real; it would also prove that the school's headmaster was targeting the wrong person the entire time, and to start the case over from scratch would be to put twice as many lives in danger."

"The only way to avoid any of that happening," said Tom, slight annoyance slipping into his regular stoic tones that generally kept him at the head of most of his arguments, "would be for you to not pull out of this."

I laughed. "If I pull out, I'll get killed, so Hogwarts closing won't be my problem, will it?" I was angering him. It probably wasn't normal that this was amusing to me, but I wasn't in a very sound state of mind. I was prepared to walk away if it got too bad – regardless of how foolish a state I was in, I knew Tom's breaking point, and that was something I didn't want to go past. Pissing off Tom Riddle was a risky thing to do. I knew that well. "And it's going to end up killing someone eventually, anyway, and what then? If they don't catch the ones responsible, then the school will close."

"You're not going to back out," Tom said. "You don't want to die."

"No one wants to die, but it's _you_ who's so afraid of the concept, if I might remind you," I said.

"I'm _not –_"

"Afraid of death? That boggart we had to go against our third year would beg to differ, I think." And now the time was certainly right to get out. "I think I'll be heading back downstairs now," I continued, standing from my bed and starting towards the door. "Annabelle asked me to let her know how the interrogation went." I waved over my shoulder.

Then something caught me by my wrist and bent my arm backwards, and what felt like a fist collided with my back. I was pushed out into the hallway, where I stumbled and hit the stone wall, just barely managing to catch myself on the stone wall across from the sixth year dorms. I looked back over my shoulder at Tom, who looked angrier than I had ever seen him before. I supposed I had gone a step too far in teasing him about the boggart. That hadn't been a pleasant experience for either of us.

Even so, I allowed _no one_ to hit me while my back was turned. I shook my head, laughed to myself, and turned back around, a sort of grimacing grin on my face.

"You son of a bitch," I said softly, crossing my arms.

He stepped into the doorframe and seemed to be about to talk, but it was at that moment when we both heard footsteps – I looked to my left in just enough time to see Orion Black rushing downstairs. A moment later, I heard his voice yell out at the common room one word, a word that was certain to break the entire Slytherin house into a panicked, excited chaos:

"_FIGHT!_"

And that was when the excited hubbub broke out downstairs.

I looked at Tom in just enough time to see the fist coming at me, in just enough time to dodge it so his fist hit the stone wall with a sickening _crunch_ rather than my face. He swore under his breath. "I believe that if I _was_ afraid of death," he said now, through gritted teeth, "it would be slightly more logical than fear of an inbred bastard who probably can't tell his face from –"

All this was cut short by another swing – my fist connected with his jaw and Tom stumbled back into the opposite wall. I glanced over, now aware of the number of faces peeking around the side of the stairway. "I'm _not_ afraid of that bloody troll," I said, still quietly. "He knows as well as I do that I could kill him with my bare hands if I wanted to." I raised my eyebrows. "Would you really like to take your chances with me when a man roughly the size of a young mountain troll is afraid to come near me?"

He stepped away from the wall. "Don't see why not! At least I'm a right side smarter than any member of your family. Apparently my history didn't involve any inbreeding."

And our audience gasped at that. This was odd for me. Usually _I_ was the hysterical one throwing insults almost as fast as punches. Rather than speak aloud my next point, I thought it as "loudly" as I could, so it would project to Tom.

_Well_, I thought, raising my eyebrows – and I could tell he heard when a muscle near his left eye twitched, _maybe not, but at least my family did what it could to avoid any filthy half breeds from sprouting off of our family tree._

Regardless of the fact that I thought he might have broken my nose with the next punch, I knew that I'd manage to get over this and that he most likely would as well, so publicly broadcasting such information would have been the biggest mistake I could have made. I didn't, though, and that would end up being a good thing later on. For the great Lord Voldemort to be known as a half-blood wizard and killing off his own kind would have been quite ironic. Or hypocritical. Whichever word suits your opinion of his views better.

When I moved my hands away from my face (they had reflexively flown there when I felt my nose crack – now it would have to be bloody realigned a _second_ time, thank God magic would prevent it from coming out too overly large), it was in just enough time to see that Tom was pointing his wand between my eyes. I scoffed, and his expression became momentarily surprised – then set right back to one of absolute anger.

"Coward," I said, still calmly. This was quite starting to scare me. I was _not_ supposed to be calm in situations like this. There was blood trailing down from my nose and onto my white shirt, an aching pain around the middle of my back. My hand felt like the wrist might be sprained from where he had twisted it. I was in a right state, but I was remaining calm. I had only hit Tom once, in the jaw, and that had been more or less a warning, and he was utterly livid.

"Coward?"

"You heard me," I said. "Sure, you got in a couple good swings – granted, one was while my back was turned, which only reinforces the coward theory – but now you're resorting to using that bloody _stick_. You know what I could do if you threw that down for more than a second, you've seen it plenty of times, no doubt formed a strategy in case we ever had a disagreement. And _this_ is the best you came up with? It's intelligent enough, I'll agree with you there, but it's a completely cowardly thing to do, really."

"If I valued bravery over cunning, I'd be in Gryffindor with the rest of the idiots. Is that where you belong after all? I always wondered what it was that caused you to throw punches at people who insulted you in the middle of crowded corridors where you'd be discovered. Animalistic instinct or complete ignorance? Couldn't be instinct, or my jaw would be unhinged right now. Apparently you have _some_ control over your actions. I take it you're just ignorant, then?"

"Gryffindor is, by _far_, the last place I belong." That had begun to boil my blood, just a bit. "I suggest you lower your bloody wand before I break it in half."

"You wouldn't do it."

Glares were exchanged silently for a few moments. Then, without warning, I reached up with my left hand. Tom quickly lowered his wand. As this put him off guard, I went for another punch, not a warning at all this time. A few _crack_s followed – most likely his jaw and a few of the knuckles of my right hand.

"Now say something smart, bastard!" I said, a bit louder than intended. The calmness was beginning to wear away now – or had it just been shock that Tom had actually initiated a fight? I wasn't sure which it was, not now.

What followed for the next few minutes were random arrays of punching, kicking, blocking, getting knocked into the wall – every great part of a good fight (which I've mostly grown out of by now – all right, I _may_ have attempted to kill Terentius Malfoy's son when he tried to push my daughter off of a cliff, but that's a story for a later time). A fight like that can never be enjoyed while it's happening. What it was, was a bitter dispute between two friends without words (though there would have been plenty of those had no jaws been broken). Even so, after all is said and done and the friends are friends again, it's just one of those things a person can look back upon and laugh (and, in case you're wondering, no, Lord Voldemort does not openly laugh in front of his followers unless it's about something involving Muggle torture – that should clear up any misconceptions in advance).

The fight ended when I heard a familiar voice belonging to someone making his way up the stairs. It ended because I paused with my fist in the air and turned my head towards the source of the voice.

And because Tom didn't.

The final blow hit me in the side of the head. My vision instantly went double. I stumbled backwards into the wall and just caught a glimpse of two Abraxas Malfoys stepping onto the landing before, after a moment of drunken swaying, I fell face first onto the floor. Everything went black from there.

––

My consciousness and vision returned to me God-knows-how-long later, but I could see where I was after a good few minutes of blinking blindly into the bright lights. My first thought had been

_(Am I in heaven…?)_

a rather vague one, but it had been countered by a more overpowering thought

_(Heaven? Idiot, that's the last place you'll ever be seen at this point.)_

that I nodded to myself in agreement with. So, if the bright lights weren't of angels guiding my way to heaven (and they weren't orange enough to be the eternal fires of hell, either), then where in the bloody hell _was_ I? My head, when I shook it a bit, felt like it was suffering through a nasty, firewhiskey induced hangover, but I didn't remember drinking any time in the past. What _had_ happened? I blinked stupidly a few more times. Then it hit me all at once, as I saw that the lights were coming from chandeliers.

"Hospital Wing!" I said in a triumphant whisper, as though I thought only a genius could have figured that out. I sat up and looked around.

The first thing I saw – and I winced, then grimaced, realizing that Abraxas Malfoy had probably suggested I be put here on purpose – was the motionless, statuesque body of Algie Longbottom, who was lying in the bed next to mine. I shut my eyes and turned my head to face forward again, deciding that it would not be a good idea to look to my right again. So, I checked my left.

Tom was sitting there, quite conscious (and it appeared he had been for a while), and reading a damned _book_ through his eye that wasn't swelled shut. First, seeing him, I felt anger again, a sudden urge to hop out of this little hospital cot, walk over to him, take the book from his hands, and hit him over the head with it hard enough to knock _him_ out – as I had suddenly remembered why I hadn't known where I was or why I was there for a moment when my eyes opened up. Then just annoyance at the fact that I had only managed to swell _one_ of his eyes shut. I'd done a much better job than that in the past on Algie Longbottom. Then slight wonder at the fact that his jaw appeared realigned. I remembered my nose breaking – I checked, and it was set back in place as well, not fractured at all. Thank you, Madam Millden. Then there was slight sympathy with a side of regret. This _was_ my fault – I had pushed Tom to it. I doubted he was going to be getting any sort of detention with Dippet in charge, but it was my fault, so I supposed I deserved it more.

But only a little more. He had struck when my back was turned. Regardless of the situation, that put points against him.

He glanced over from his book and apparently recognized that I was quite awake, as I heard him a moment later – he didn't speak out loud, but I still heard him well enough. Legilimency comes in handy for plenty of different things.

"_That didn't take long. I suppose you've arrived here unconscious enough times to break out of it faster than the average person."_

_Insult?_ I asked. _Because it's not a very good one if it is. I know full well how many times I've been here._

"_No, not really an insult,"_ Tom replied, turning over a page in his book. _"Mostly just an observation. Come to your senses yet?"_

_About what?_

"_About the Chamber of Secrets, obviously."_

_Ah… moment, please._

I immediately blocked off all invading presences from my mind in case Tom decided not to give me a moment to think without… let's say, without "outside help". I wouldn't call it much of a help, but it's a polite way to put it.

The last thing I really needed was to stay involved with the Chamber of Secrets, I thought with an accidental glance to my right. I flinched at the Longbottom statue lying in the bed next to mine again and directed my range of sight back in front of me. But, I didn't want to die. Oh, I was afraid of it. It might not have been the greatest of all my fears, but the idea of it definitely shook me. Sixteen was not an average age to die, not in the least little bit, but what was I going to do? If I stayed working with Tom on it, I'd live. I wanted to live. If I pulled out of it, I'd die. I did _not_ want to die. I closed my eyes. Stupid bloody morality. I didn't understand why I had to be cursed with morals when my father had none, and my grandfather apparently hadn't had any either. If my father knew that I was in on this Chamber of Secrets business, all he would have for me would be praises. But me, I was constantly scolding _myself_. I didn't understand why. These bloody morals. I was a Gaunt, and according to popular opinion, Gaunts and morals just did not mix. So where had it come from?

_(even he doesn't want a blood traitor for a mother)_

My hand flew to my forehead as the thought cut painfully through to the front of my mind, then faded away in much the same manner as a dream dissipating shortly after consciousness is achieved.

"_What was that?"_

I glanced over at Tom, who was looking at me oddly. _Dunno. Just happens occasionally._ Then, before he could ask about the Chamber, I added on, _And yes, I've come to my senses as you chose to put it. I'll continue with this. But if it gets me kicked out of school, then you're going to regret ever getting me into this. Got it?_

"_Got it."_

_Good._

I didn't want anything to do with the Chamber anymore, but I wanted even less to do with death. He would have to save his scythe for someone else; Death wouldn't be getting me any time soon. I'd outrun him no matter how much it took.

Madam Millden had just entered from a room she kept medicines of sorts in, carrying a bottle potion with her (one I recognized – it served the basic purpose of getting rid of nasty bruises, swelling, and sealing small scrapes) as she hurried over to Tom and either began or continued giving him the reprimand I usually received for fighting (which I would no doubt be getting as soon as she realized I was awake). I was used to the scolding. I had learned long ago not to argue with anything she said, just nod and smile and agree. Tom had enough common sense to do that right off the bat, even though he had been able to avoid confrontation of this sort for the past nearly five and a half years he had spent at Hogwarts.

Trust me to break that record, I thought, and laughed under my breath.

_(doesn't want a blood traitor for a)_

This time, I formed my hand into a fist and hit the side of my head with moderate force to knock away the headache the thought would bring with it. It was my father's voice, it was almost always my father's voice that cut through like that, but occasionally it would be a young voice that I suspected was most likely me before my memory kicked in well enough to consciously hold onto important memories. They were all there, just buried in the back of my mind, waiting to crash through with a horrid pain every time I let my guard down, whenever I least expected them to.

I hated it. If I couldn't fully remember much before I was five years old, then I didn't want to remember _anything _of it. I somehow doubted, however, that my mind would ever comply with that.

* * *

_Fight scene XD Fun stuff._


	11. Ch 10: Awaken

_Next chapter right here. Has been done for a while, forgot I hadn't posted it yet. Sorry._

* * *

Yelling, insults, cries of pain, a bloody steak knife lying on the floor. A three-year-old boy yelling obscenities at a woman while sitting at his father's side. A woman with lank black hair and eyes shaped like a snake's but colored the brightest turquoise anyone would ever care to see Disapparating from the scene. I was standing by, watching it all, watching as the child yelled after the woman to come back, though she didn't hear. She was gone already.

I awoke from the dream and looked down at myself, instinctively, as though to make sure I was still completely alive. I was laying in my bed in the sixth year dormitories, unharmed and with no bloody steak knives in sight, no screaming or yelling or any noise but that of a few snores here and there. I looked around, verified my surroundings – but as in the Hospital Wing, lying on the bed to my right, I saw Algie Longbottom in his statuesque state, but I wasn't in Hogwarts at all, I was in my own home, in the backroom where I slept in the bed at the back left corner. He was lying on his side, pointing at me, his eyes glazed over like those of the dead. I tried to stand, to run, but I found myself glued to my bed. I groaned – I was in another dream. There was no bed to the right of mine in my room at home, there never had been one! I knew, I _knew_ I would wake up if I closed my eyes, for maybe five seconds.

I attempted that experiment and opened my eyes after five long seconds, looked down at myself, a three-year-old child afraid to look around, a child afraid of the monster lying in wait next to him – but I found my head turning to the right automatically to check to see if it was gone anyway. It never was, not ever. She was still standing there with lank black hair and those serpentine eyes, not turquoise but the yellow color of a Basilisk's – and no, not hair, but _snakes_, thousands of tiny black snakes as thin as locks of hair, all ready to strike at the moment I moved a muscle. Always, she was holding in one hand that bloody steak knife with a ring hanging off of the very tip of the blade, a gold ring with a black stone, and a scythe in the other hand. The hand closed around the scythe was nothing more than a skeletal web of a hand. I closed my eyes, knowing what was to come, _knowing_ in my little three-year-old mind that this woman had come to drag me to the land of the dead regardless of how hard I fought it. I closed them as tightly as I could, yes, withdrew into myself, and fell a thousand feet into the eternal darkness that lay behind my closed eyelids –

And landed finally on my bed in the Slytherin sixth year dorms with a fearful start, thirteen years older than I was sure I had been no more than a moment ago, and I drew the covers over my head like the three-year-old in my dream, afraid _she_ would be waiting for me at my bedside if I looked to my right.

Then, with an inward sigh, I chalked another one up.

The dreams had started and continued every night since Tom and I had fought a month ago. Twenty-five nights so far. I was keeping count. What better was there to do when I woke up in the middle of the night, _every_ night, and found myself unable to sleep again? Just chalk another one up. It had started as a sort of _All right, that's the fourth bloody time, this NEEDS to stop_, but it had more lately become more of an _Oh, nineteen, wonder if I'll make it to thirty_. They were really starting to get to me.

It was twenty-five tonight. Twenty-five times. The woman, I could barely remember what she looked like. One dream, a kind (though somewhat snakelike, yes) face and turquoise eyes, lank black hair, a woman with no intention of violence unless it was to protect another. The next dream, the very object of fear. Those same eyes, a murky yellow where they should have been white with black, vertical slits for pupils. No irises, no turquoise, just the horrible eyes of a snake, of the king of all serpents.

They were two different people, no matter how similar they looked – no, not two different people. One wasn't a person. One was Death, a form come to lure me back to the land of the dead, drag me back if she had to. She was there, always. She was standing at my bedside even as I hid beneath my covers, and I knew she was hovering over me with the Basilisk's eyes and Medusa's hair, taunting me with my father's ring – but why? I never did understand his ring. With her scythe and her skeleton hand, she could have been no entity other than Death, haunting my dreams in a form that would scare me beyond any other. The bloody steak knife, I knew why that was there. Come with me – that was what she was saying as I stared into her yellow eyes, a scared little child with no one to help him – come with me, and I'll take you to the one who did this, you know her even if you don't think you do.

That steak knife was the same in the first dream, the one full of yelling and screaming and negativity, the one I could do no more than stand by helplessly and watch as a family tore itself appart, and as my father tore that steak knife out of his leg to stand up and indignantly call _her_ a blood traitor, one last time.

_Well, that's a first…_ I thought to myself, putting my forehead in my hands. I never remembered enough of that first dream to know what was going on, not until tonight. The steak knife, I understood finally after night after night of wondering.

But why the ring?

I lowered my left hand, where the ring constantly rest around my ring finger, the gold scratched around the heavy black stone itself. I could barely see it with the covers drawn over my head, but just enough with the little light from the dim fire of the few lanterns still lit on the walls shining through the sheets to continue to wonder…. Why would Death need a ring? That made nearly as much sense as the garbled death-cry of a Jobberknoll. To me it did, at the least.

I gave a groan under my breath – Divination class tomorrow, and we were supposed to be keeping track of our dreams so we could interpret them. Tom had been right to get out of _that_ bloody course while he still had the chance. I had done well enough in it to take the NEWT level classes, and Annabelle had talked me out of dropping it so we could have "more classes together."

The problem with being in that class with Annabelle was that she had a certain gift for the course. The "Seer" garbage the teacher was always spouting didn't convince me of anything, no, but Annabelle had mentioned to me last year that the women on her mother's side of the family did generally do well in anything pertaining to Divination. I didn't doubt it. She had been making O's on everything in the class since her third year, which I found maddeningly annoying.

Of course, it was always rather fun to perplex Professor Sable employing Legilimency on her and agreeing with any random thoughts I happened to catch when she walked past my table, then pretending I thought she had said them out loud. I halfway suspected that was why I had passed my OWLs for that class with an Exceeds Exceptions, considering I completely flubbed both the crystal ball and the reading tea leaves portions. After the end of the exam, when she was appearing particularly disappointed with the results of my examination, I told her I would tell her everything she was thinking if she would give me a passing grade.

Yes, Legilimency did come in handy for many things, even cheap tricks on unsuspecting teachers.

And in getting grades I didn't actually deserve.

For now, I would have to come up with some sort of fake dream to interpret tomorrow in that class that I really couldn't help but despise with every fabric of my dream and hope that Annabelle wouldn't manage to – to put it in terms of Divination – _See_ past the fake dream.

* * *

_I do wonder how much more time is left in class…_

"Fifteen minutes."

I held back a laugh as Professor Sable gave me a somewhat questioning look. "Excuse me?" I looked over my shoulder where she had stopped.

"Didn't you just ask how much longer until this class is over?"

"No." She said this quite firmly and walked away. I laughed under my breath and dodged the crumbled piece of parchment Annabelle had just thrown at me.

"You _need_ to stop doing that!" she said.

"Why?" I asked, grinning as Professor Sable gave me a somewhat reproachful look from the other side of the classroom. "It's the only form of entertainment I have in this class, and Merlin knows I'm not going to pass it any other way. Not that I need it, but it still wouldn't look good if I failed any class, would it?"

"Then try passing it honestly," she said, though she sounded amused when she glanced over at Professor Sable. "It _is_ rather entertaining," she added thoughtfully, and I could tell easily enough that she was holding back a laugh, "but it's still not a very nice thing to do."

"But it's funny," I pointed out.

"Lots of things are funny," said Annabelle. "Take for instance last year. Remember the last Hogsmeade trip of the year? The one when Riddle and Malfoy had to drag you back from Hogsmeade because you were too sloshed to even stand up, I don't think anyone's _ever_ going to forget that. But no one's Imperiusing you into drinking gallons of Firewhiskey just for a good laugh."

I blinked a few times. "Why would anyone have to Imperiuse me?"

"Because the barkeeps at all the pubs now know your age and you'd have to take anything stronger than butterbeer by force if you wanted to have it."

I blinked a few more times. "That still doesn't answer the question of why anyone would have to Imperiuse me to do it." I dodged another spare bit of parchment.

"Well I'd _hope_ you wouldn't attempt doing that without anyone controlling you, but I can't say I really believe it," said Annabelle. She shook her head. "You got me off topic again, we're supposed to be interpreting dreams," she said, looking at a roll of parchment in front of her on the table. "And I somehow doubt that you _actually_ had a dream about evil pink bunnies invading the North Pole to steal all of Santa's presents."

"With machine guns and armored tanks."

Annabelle sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't have talked you into taking Muggle Studies, your fascination with their weapons is getting a bit disturbing. But again," she said, sighing impatiently as she opened her course book on top of the parchment to the pages on dream interpreting, "I highly doubt this was your dream last night."

"Why?"

"Because you were up at five in the morning in the common room, and you yelped like a hurt dog and fell off the couch when I said hello. Dreams about rabbits don't do that to people."

"Even rabbits with ma–?"

"Even ones with machine guns," she said with a laugh. "Trust me. Now. Either you're going to tell me your dream or I'm going to use deductive reasoning to figure out what it was."

"I doubt you'd be able to," I said, hiding slight nervousness that she indeed _would_ be able to with a laugh. It was a rather poor mask, but she apparently didn't see through it. She just crossed her arms stubbornly, eyebrows raised.

"I've done it before."

"That wasn't deductive reasoning, that was insanely keen Legilimentic superpowers," I said, waving my hand dismissively. I leaned my chair onto its two back legs and looked around the classroom. If I had to dodge the subject for the last ten minutes of class, I _would_. I wasn't going to repeat a word of what was in that dream. Or in the dream within that dream.

"What in the name of Merlin have _you_ been smoking this morning?" she asked incredulously. Rhetorical question, obviously, but I resolved to answer her anyway.

"Floo powder." I looked back in time to see her forehead get a rather informal introduction to her left palm, and the table to her elbow.

"You know, for as many times as you've said that I'm beginning to wonder whether or not that's true," she said, shaking her head.

"You wouldn't love me if I wasn't so ridiculous."

She smiled sourly. "Maybe not, but I'd love you _more_ if you'd tell me what your bloody dream was," she said in a sardonically sweet voice.

"Add a keg of butterbeer in with that and we shall have an accord," I said. I held out my hand. "Shake on it?"

She looked down at my hand, and then gave me a piercing stare that almost made me flinch. I managed not to, as I knew that would have made her think she was winning. That couldn't happen. "I'm going to bite your fingers off if you don't tell me your dream," she said finally in a toneless voice, her stare unwavering.

I sighed and looked around the class, withdrawing my hand. "You take this class really seriously, don't you?" She nodded rapidly. I looked around the class. There were too many people sitting close by, and who knew when Sable would wander past again? I couldn't say anything, not here at least. I could tell Annabelle. If no one else, I knew I could tell her. I looked back at her seriously.

"All right," I said, careful to keep my voice quiet. "But not until later. Just interpret the fake dream and we'll be done with it for now, all right?"

Her expression changed in an instant, as it was so good at doing, from determined and somewhat angered to concerned and confused. "Was it that bad?" I nodded grimly. "O-oh, I didn't know, I'm –"

"Don't apologize," I interrupted her. "I could've said that much myself, I just didn't want to think about it again." I laughed. "Once I got my mind back in order after waking up from it last night, the first thing that popped into my head was 'Merlin's beard, I'm going to need to make up a fake dream for Divination today.'"

"Your mind just wasn't in order enough to make a very believable one, then," she said, tracing a finger down the pages of her book. "Let's see, we'll say this means that you've predicted World War II – I know you know what the war is as you've apparently been paying attention in Muggle Studies to anything dealing with weapons and cars – will end within the next year or two. The rabbits represent the Axis powers – stop laughing at me, you're the one who wrote this! – and 'Santa's elves' represent the Allied powers. The fact that they're represented by such childish things just shows your subconscious views of Muggle warfare – you believe it to be inferior to any methods wizards use." Annabelle looked up at me. "Now if the war _does_ end, you'll probably pass this class with flying colors."

"And if it doesn't?" I asked, amused.

"Then just invade her mind and scare her into passing you again. It's not like _I'm_ going to be able to stop you."

I shrugged in a semi-apologetic manner. "I can't help it. You know I lack the self control most normal humans possess. And considering you and Tom are refusing to loan me any of yours, I'm sor' of stuck, aren't I?"

"I'm not loaning you any of mine because I know you'd just leave it sitting around somewhere and go about your life the same way you always have."

"Besides the fact that it's physically impossible to distribute your self control as you see necessary," I said.

"That as well, but mostly because you wouldn't bother with self control if you had any."

I sighed and leaned forward to pick up the description of the dream I was supposed to be interpreting. "I hope you know that your complete lack of faith in me is a bit depressing." I skimmed quickly through the page. "Ah, another patricidal one. I'd reckon it means your father's going to be dead inside of a week of you getting home this summer, and it won't be accidental. Of course, maybe not. There's the whole self control idea to take into consideration again. You probably won't kill him. Maybe this means he will have an accidental death."

"Or just that I wish he would have an accidental death."

"Right." I put down the paper. "Can't really say there's anything prophetic in that. It's just a semi-conscious psychiatric mumbo-jumbo type thing of you despising him. Mind getting her over here?" I added, nodding sideways at the professor. "I highly doubt she'll listen to me now."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Hers," I said defensively. "She's under this weird impression I can read her mind. Bonkers, isn't she?"

Annabelle shook her head. "I'm starting to worry about _your_ sanity."

_You're not the only one,_ I thought to myself with a somewhat grim smile. Oh, I most certainly was _not_ looking forward to recounting the dream that had been driving the remaining sanity out of my mind for the past twenty-five nights. With my luck, it would mean that I was going to die before the end of the year. That's what it fealt like it meant to me, anyway, but who really knew? No doubt Annabelle would. She did have an uncanny gift for Divination that even I, who often stomped on beliefs of true "Seers", couldn't deny. I wasn't sure if telling anyone else would help or just drive me further down the path to the Janus Thickey Ward in St. Mungo's.

But, as I told Annabelle that I would educate her on the dream, I supposed I would soon find out just what the result would be.

* * *

_I honestly do wonder what would happen if someone decided to smoke Floo Powder. Hmm. *Adds to list of questions I'll ask if I ever meet JKR.*_


	12. Ch 11: Impatient

_Omg, Comma totally updated! Wow!_

_But... um... yeah, I was so terribly unnice about the end of this chapter. I feel kinda bad about it._

_ThreeBooksInTheFire: O.O I totally hope I updated fast enough. I don't want to meet Buffy the Rabid Hippogriff. I don't deny being a fummin, but still._

_Hmm._

_**Disclaimer**: If I owned the HP series, I'd be fcking rich and living in a damn castle in Scotland. Here I sit in a middle of nowhere town in South Carolina. I so don't own Harry Potter. I just own my original concepts and characters._

_**Warnings**: I'm so cruel._

_**Quick Quotes Quill**: When Malfoy found something funny, it generally had to do with bad things happening to his enemies. Here at Hogwarts, I was practically his only enemy. This was very problematic._

* * *

When classes ended, the Great Hall was open for lunch. Annabelle and I, being the only two Slytherin sixth years in Divination, headed down together, taking particular care to keep away from the group of Gryffindors that seemed to be plotting to push me down the stairs of the North Tower. For as much hatred as I had incurred from them over the years, it seemed to have at least tripled since this Chamber of Secrets business started. I honestly couldn't say I blamed them, but it didn't mean I had to enjoy it.

We both arrived in the Great Hall as quickly as anyone coming from the North Tower could have – going from the top of Hogwarts to the bottom definitely was not the fastest trip in the world. It was, as always, teeming with all sorts of life. Also as usual, half of the Gryffindor table glared at me as I entered. And as was usual lately, ever since the Hufflepuff prefect was sent to the Hospital Wing petrified, the Hufflepuffs followed suit. What wasn't usual was that most of the Ravenclaws joined them as well this time – at least, the few that were there did. I looked at the table (which was most unfortunately situated right behind where I normally chose to sit at the Slytherin table) warily, somewhat puzzled by this sudden change of mood. Slytherins, though we didn't normally get along exceptionally well with anyone outside of our own house, generally did get on best with the Ravenclaws. I rarely ever received any trouble from them, nor did they from me.

I took my regular seat next to Tom, glancing back cautiously over my shoulder. Annabelle sat next to me.

"Is there any reason three quarters of the Great Hall looks like they're plotting to kill me?" I mumbled to Tom. He looked over his shoulder as well, and then nodded shortly.

"Xandaria Pertin," he said quietly. "They found her in the library petrified, holding a book on magical creatures. Third year Ravenclaw."

_Magical creatures… what if she figured out… dammit, it could be bad if…_ my thoughts trailed off into a mixture of _what if_'s and _why_'s. This could turn out to be a _very_ bad thing.

"_She was a Ravenclaw, and the one stipulation to be sorted there is you have to be smart,"_ it said. _"So those were my thoughts as well."_

_Why wasn't she killed?_

"_She was looking out a window. I'm guessing she saw its reflect– Dumbledore."_

And immediately Tom's mind was closed off completely. I did the same for mine when I glanced up at the High Table and saw Dumbledore taking his seat there. Already seated in the Headmaster's chair was Armando Dippet, looking extremely fatigued and worn as he gazed around at the whole of the disgruntled student body. I highly doubted he would address the issue now, nor would he allow Dumbledore to. Dippet was the type of superior that was only as honest as he needed to be with anyone he believed to be below them – a believer of "Tell them only as much as they need to know to keep them quiet and out of my hair (for what little hair I have left)." Dumbledore believed in being completely honest with us.

It would be easier to explain with a hypothetical situation, I suppose. If anyone ever does read this, they will be of a generation that knows Albus Dumbledore as the headmaster of their Hogwarts (a luckier generation than my own, then). In the event that Gellert Grindelwald decided to plan an attack on the school, Dippet would have merely informed the student body that there was threat that dark forces may be attempting to infiltrate us – nothing to worry about, we'll just update the protective charms surrounding the place and make sure they can't get in, perhaps cancel the next Hogsmeade trip. Dumbledore, on the other hand, would be sure to let us know exactly what was going on so, in the event that if any one of the students came into contact with Grindelwald himself, they would at least be expecting it and know not to be off guard. In some ways, Dippet's method was better in that it wouldn't create mass panic. However, in my own personal opinion, it would be better for every single entity at Hogwarts to be on guard in case of a serious attack.

Now, forgetting Grindelwald – Dumbledore was talking in what appeared to be a quite serious manner with Dippet. Dippet was remaining distinctly agitated by this, so I had no doubt Dumbledore was trying to talk him into addressing the issue that three students had been transformed into statues of their former selves this year and that something needed to be done. One other thing about Dumbledore was that he was _never_ quick to give up. I wouldn't have been surprised if he spent most of the rest of the day doing whatever he could to convince Dippet to openly recognize the danger.

I wouldn't even find out if he spent the rest of lunch doing this, however, as I was being quite literally dragged out of the Great Hall by Annabelle a moment later. Around the corner of the doors, she let go of my sleeve and crossed her arms. "If that dream had _anything_ to do with the Cham –" she began in an undertone.

"It didn't," I said, then added as an afterthought: "Not… not _directly_, at least."

And _now_ I got her calculating, maternal-instinct stare. Anyone who's ever even _seen_ a mother knows _that_ look: brow furrowed, sharp eyes, lips pursed, arms crossed, even with an occasional twitch of the muscle located in the cheek for heightened effect. It normally amused me to no end, because I was fully aware that she never knew when she was doing this. Given the situation (and the subject matter of the dream itself), however, I wasn't at all amused. I was anything but amused, even a bit ashamed for whatever reason. But _not_ amused.

"Timothy," she said, "if it had _anything_ to do with the Chamber, you're going to tell me."

"I _will_, just not in the middle of the Entrance Hall," I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder at the door into the Great Hall. "Anyone could walk out here and hear me talking about it."

"All right," she said impatiently, perhaps a bit crossly. She grabbed my sleeve again. "Then outside with you."

"But – I – they'll think I'm off to petrify someone and –"

I should have known by that point that protesting Annabelle when she got into these states of mind was absolutely pointless. I went on anyway, all the way out to my usual hideaway by the edge of the lake. Relieved as I was when she let go of me, I was put instantly on guard again when she crossed her arms and gave me that same look. "So?"

With a sigh of resignation, I gave her my recount of the dream. While it didn't take much time at all to get everything out in a rather rushed manner, it felt to me to have taken hours – I was so surprised that it wasn't dark outside by the time I had finished that I had to give a quick glance at my watch in order to believe it. I looked back up at Annabelle, who looked contemplative. "Now," I said, leaning back against a tree. "Your family is apparently good with these sorts of things. What do you believe it meant?"

She pursed her lips and stared out at the lake. "The first part is simple enough, that doesn't requite any guessing at all," she said. "That's just memories leaking out of your subconscious, it sounds like. The part where you first wake up is also fairly obvious; you're feeling guilty about the two victims; that was the bit with the petrified Longbottom. The last part gets me. I could only guess why the… er, _it_ resembled your mother in the first half of the dream. The eye color could have just been random –" I knew it wasn't, but I still wasn't telling Annabelle about the Basilisk. "– but the hair could have been metaphorical. Greek mythology, Medusa was a woman with hair made of snakes and eyes that could turn anyone who looked at her to stone, which is probably in direct connection with the Chamber of Secrets. The fact that the steak knife and the ring are both in one hand might be important, but I don't know anything about your childhood at _all –_" She said this with a distinctive tone, one that told me that this annoyed her a tad bit. "– so I can't help you with that. The scythe is obvious enough, as your life has been in danger since you got into all of this. How many times did you say you've had the dream?"

"Twenty-five," I said immediately.

"Then it's doubtful it will stop any time soon. It probably will when the Chamber of Secrets is closed, which Tom obviously isn't planning to do until the end of our seventh year."

I sighed to myself quietly while her back was turned, glaring down at my feet. I had known everything she had told me already. I had to admit, I really had worked out quite a bit of the dream. I wasn't entirely sure what I had been hoping Annabelle could tell me about it. I did know why I had been having it. I knew what everything but the ring and the knife meant. Had I thought she might know a way to make it stop? Perhaps it _had_ been an idle hope in the back of my mind, but not much else.

"Can I see the ring for a moment?"

I looked up to see that she had turned to face me again. "Why?"

"I'm just curious about something," she said. "I've obviously seen it before, I don't think I've ever seen you take it off, but I've never actually noticed it before."

I shrugged and removed the ring from my left hand and dropped it in her hand. She looked at it for a moment, though just at the stone. Her brow furrowed as she looked at it. "That's odd…" she said quietly.

"What is?"

"The symbol on the stone," she said, looking up at me. "It's Grindelwald's mark. You never noticed?"

I shook my head slowly. "I wasn't fully aware he had his own mark," I admitted. It was a bit daft for me not to know, given how active he had been lately. I never really looked at the _Daily Prophet_. Annabelle or Tom would mention articles occasionally, but I never took the time to read it myself. I was in the minority of the student body that didn't even subscribe to it.

"Well, that's what it is," Annabelle said. She looked back down at the stone. "But you said your father told you that it's been in the Gaunt family for ages, so that doesn't make much sense."

"Actually, he said it was some coat of arms when he gave it to me," I remembered suddenly. "Apparently it was a really old wizarding family that the Gaunts were descended from. He never really mentioned the name except when he was showing off the ring, I don't even remember what it was," I said as she handed back the ring.

She sighed. "We need to get back in the school before classes –" And with that, the bell promptly rang.

"Bloody hell…" That was definitely the best way to describe it. While Annabelle already had her textbook for Defense Against the Dark Arts – she would merely have to rush back into the Great Hall, grab it, and run – mine was in my dormitory. "And with my luck, someone else'll be petrified while I'm off getting my bloody book…"

"Maybe you'll be lucky and Dippet will want to have a word with you now about Pertin."

"Lucky?" I said, raising my eyebrows at her.

"Joking," she said with a laugh.

The joke wasn't there when we entered the castle and Abraxas Malfoy was waiting there for me. I refrained from groaning in utter agony – this was damnation. If Dippet was pulling me out of class, he must have had some new interrogation tactic in store for me that I didn't even _want_ to know about. Annabelle and I both stopped in front of him. He looked between us.

"Off petrifying someone else, Gaunt? I would think two in one day would be a bit conspicuous, especially after disappearing from lunch as quickly as you did. Run along, Miss Potts," he added to Annabelle. "You wouldn't want to be late for your next class."

She gave Malfoy a glare as she walked around him. I didn't bother glaring at him. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows. "But of course I was, _sir_. If I seem too suspicious, no one will suspect me, will they? Oh, wait, I'm already too suspicious and everyone suspects me. Oops."

"Sarcasm won't get you anywhere, Gaunt," Malfoy said, and I was surprised to see that he smiled with this. "Headmaster Dippet has asked that I escort you to his office. Follow me, if you will."

I did indeed follow him up the stairs, saying, "Oh, goody, more interrogations," in a dry manner. Malfoy laughed. That was really beginning to worry me. Anything Abraxas Malfoy found amusing was never good. Not as bad as anything that Tom found amusing, perhaps. When Tom found something funny, it most often involved Muggle torture. When Malfoy found something funny, it generally had to do with bad things happening to his enemies. Here at Hogwarts, I was practically his only enemy.

This was very problematic.

"You're in a good mood today, sir," I said, cautiously guarding my voice as we step onto the first flight of stairs. "Does it please you this much that people are being petrified?" And there went that bloody filter again. Or, there went my lack _of_ a filter for my thoughts and words.

"No, quite the opposite," he said. "You see, Gaunt, Dippet has changed his tactics in finding out who has been attacking students."

"Oh? How has he done that?" I asked curiously.

"He has discovered that in this situation, it is perfectly fine for enhanced interrogation techniques to be used upon any suspect." I raised my eyebrows, which did no good since Malfoy's back was to me. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know, anyway. If it was veritaserum, I was going to be out. If it was Legilimency, I was going to be out – even if I could block it, blocking would mean I had something to hide.

The atmosphere in Dippet's office was just as tense as I had expected it to be as I took my seat in the chair in front of Dippet's desk. Malfoy left after he had delivered me, and only Dippet and Dumbledore were present at the moment. If I said I wasn't the least bit worried, I would be lying. This was the worst thing in the world. There was no way around it. I already had a block around my mind, just to be safe, and it would stay there until I left the room. I could hold it for as long as I had to.

Dippet surveyed me with tired eyes for a moment before speaking up. When he did speak, his voice was dead serious, straight to the point.

"Gaunt," he said, "I am going to ask you a few questions. I expect you to answer all of them honestly. I will know if you haven't."

Upon seeing his glance at Dumbledore, I knew immediately what was going to be used on me, and that my block was completely necessary.

"Firstly," he says, "a simple question. Are you a Parselmouth, as your father was?"

"Yes sir." I allow this thought to slip through my block. I could afford letting that information out. "Why do you ask?"

"That," he said, "was merely a test. I believe your answer was truthful, as not many would admit to such a thing."

"Of course, sir," I agree. "But my family is known for it. Lying would have been pointless."

"Of course. Now, on a more serious note. Who within the school has been petrified thus far?"

"Algie Longbottom, Leanne Larring, and Xandaria Pertin," I said. "It would be pointless lying about that as well."

"Did you have any part in what happened to them?"

"No sir." I didn't let a single thought slip through my blockade at this. Dippet looked up at Dumbledore, who was still watching me silently. It was Dumbledore who chose to speak up next.

"Timothy, blocking me from your thoughts will only incriminate you further."

Dippet looked back and forth between myself and Dumbledore. "Block? How is – how is that possible? The boy couldn't possibly know Occlumency, that's years beyond his level ­– isn't it, Albus?" Dippet obviously wasn't a scholar on these matters.

"Might be years beyond my level, sir," I agreed with him, "but I started years before most people. My mum apparently had an interest in the subject and had left behind a few books on it that my father didn't manage to burn. I read up on it and bought a few more before my first year because I found it all quite interesting. Maybe it's something of a natural talent of my family – on her side, not my father's. The only natural talent they have is inbreeding," I say disdainfully.

"Albus, did you know about this?"

I smiled and waited for Dumbledore to answer. "Indeed I did. However, regardless, I suppose I was not expecting Timothy to employ Occlumency. If he truly were innocent, then there would be no need for it."

"I just don't like people invading on my mind," I said, and that was at least part of the truth. "I have enough trouble with the filter between my thoughts and my words without people looking in my mind to see what I _do_ manage to keep to myself."

"And what is it you are trying to keep to yourself?" Dippet asked me skeptically.

That was easy. "The biggest embarrassment in my entire life. My heritage. I take pride in descending from Salazar Slytherin. I wouldn't deny that for a moment. But my father, his father, their father – for years, Gaunts have kept their family name alive with incest and hatred. I don't want people to know what I know about them." Quite easy. Far easier than his next question would be.

"Well, now that all that is out in the open, why don't you open your mind and let us see that you are truly innocent in all of this, with your hatred of your heritage," Dippet said, sounding smug. I flinched inwardly, not so he could see. Had my block not been up, Dumbledore would have noticed it, but Dippet would have been none the wiser.

"I would rather not, sir," I said.

"And why might _that _be?"

"That wasn't nearly all of it. There are things that no one needs to see." Including, but not limited to, giant snakes. I managed not to say this.

"Mr. Gaunt," Dippet said seriously, leaning forward on his desk, "I have the authority to expel you if you do not do as I ask. You have something to hide, and unless we know what it is, then you will not remain a suspect, but rather be named the culprit behind these attacks."

I gulped inaudibly. The last thing I wanted was to be sent off, but regardless, I would. It seemed inevitable. Unless I could manage to disguise my thoughts, to camouflage them, then I would either make myself suspicious by blocking them or make myself known by revealing them. Either way, I was done. This was it.

"Fine," I said calmly, much to the protest of my pounding heart. "I'm not taking the block off. Go ahead and expel me." Dippet raised his eyebrows. "You know why?" He didn't reply, and I continued. "I'll tell you why. It's because it's _not_ me, and if I need to leave to prove it, then fine. The attacks will continue after I have left because there is no way that expelling the _wrong person_ could possibly stop them."

Dippet remained silent for a moment, studying my face and more than likely failing to read anything into my blank mask of calm. My reasoning was true enough. Tom would continue this even after I left, and that would prove it. That would prove that it couldn't possibly be me. Finally, Dippet nodded, making his decision on how to take my little speech.

"Very well, Mr. Gaunt. You may return to your common room."

"I have classes," I said, nearly grinning. Was it really that easy?

"No," he said, "you do not." My brow furrowed. "Return to your common room and pack your things. I believe your expulsion will end the attacks. If it does not, I will allow you to return to this school. Therefore, your wand will not yet be broken. If, in a month, no more attacks have occurred, it will be."

"So we've come to an agreement, now we're just haggling the price," I said. "Two months."

"You are in no position to haggle, Gaunt. If you wish to try, then you will be expelled indefinitely. Think of this as more of an out of school suspension. I am sure your father will think of something to do with you when you arrive home, so it is unnecessary for Hogwarts to assign any further punishment yet."

I scoffed. "If he thinks I opened the chamber of secrets, he'll be praising me half to death."

"And can you honestly say you will enjoy that?"

So Dippet _could _be cunning sometimes. "All right, that definitely _is_ a good point." In no way did I ever want to do my father proud. That would involve destruction of Muggles… which would be exactly what he would think I was doing, think I was living up to my family name when, really, Tom was living up to my family name and he wasn't even a Gaunt.

The situation wasn't wonderful. If Tom didn't act, my wand would be snapped in two. If he did, I would be taken back away from my father, a blessing, and thrust back into this chamber of secrets business, a curse. I couldn't figure out which was worse: a giant snake or a giant sociopath.

This time, when I cringed at the thought, it wasn't inwardly. As I headed back to my common room with Abraxas Malfoy as my escort after the meeting with Dumbledore and Dippet, I didn't care who saw me cringe. I had a reason to. It was a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pounds of psycho-and-muscle reason, which seemed a damn good reason to me.


	13. Ch 12: Annoyance

_YYAAAAAYCHAPTERDONE!!!_

_*spazzness*_

_Anywho._

_Replies, anyone?_

_And I don't reply to two word comments, so I'll only be replying to two of the three. I do appreciate the comments, I just don't see the need to reply to ones that are that short..._

_ThreeBooksInTheFire: Actuallytechnically it totally wouldn't be good for him, because that would put the school one step closer to discovering it's him. Granted Dippet's a big buttwipe who would never expect perfect little psychopathic voldykins, but oh well. That's Dippet for ya._

_Sparanda: -still feels like a complete idiot for not noticing that- -facepalm-_

_**Disclaimer**: I still totally don't own Harry Potter. These things don't change between chapters, I promise. No. Owns. H. P. That's JKR's job. And to kill people :( -is still totally sad over the last book-  
_

_**Warnings**: I'm still so cruel.  
_

_**Quick Quotes Quill**: I couldn't stand being the subject of pity of a bunch of filthy Muggles who all thought I was underfed and mistreated and troubled. I was fine. They were the ones who were all mad._ (Yeah, totally sounds like denial.)

* * *

In absolute annoyance, I held a bag of ice covered in a tattered old cloth over my right eye, watching the night pass by in Great Hangleton through my left. My father hadn't managed to swell both of my eyes shut, and that was a blessing in itself. I was agile and I did pack a decent punch, but he hit harder. I had also had less practice this year. Algie Longbottom had ended up petrified. I'd only fought Tom, and that was only one time. There was a chance my father had the upper hand, and if that was so, I would be spending a lot of time glaring at Great Hangleton through my one decent eye.

A week had passed by since I had returned home, and this was the first fight between my father and me thus far. I had finally, in our worst yelling contest yet, managed to get it through his thick skull that I had _not_ had anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets. How had I managed it? Well, I had told him that he was an old lunatic with an ancestry of inbred idiots that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with, and therefore I wouldn't have opened the Chamber of Secrets because I tried to avoid association with my family name at all costs.

And then he had swung at me and called me a filthy blood traitor, just like my mother and his own sister and told me I wasn't worthy to be in Slytherin, especially not worthy of the Gaunt family name.

On the downside, I was probably going to end up falling asleep on this bench and wake up, half-frozen, to find a Muggle child poking me with a stick. My father would definitely not let me back in the house tonight. It happened quite often during the summer, but it was winter right now, and waking up cold might make me likely to strike at whatever Muggle was hovering over me.

On the upside of things, however, he had actually mentioned _something_ about a subject he generally avoided as though speaking of it would be the death of him. He had mentioned my mother, and that she was a blood traitor. That was the most that he had ever spoken of her before, and now I knew it for a fact. Then his sister. I knew about her already, about Merope Gaunt, who ran off with a Muggle while my father and his father were in prison for something. She had left, and had been promptly disowned. Had she returned, she wouldn't have been welcome. My father despised her, but he would use her as an example of a blood traitor at any given moment.

It was my mother, the woman he had apparently been married to, that he would never mention. This was most definitely a first for him. She was a forbidden topic; I didn't even know her name at that time. I wanted to know more, of course, but asking him would mean more nights spent with good old Father Winter during my leave of absence from Hogwarts. I didn't mind winter. I just didn't like sleeping in the middle of it. There aren't many people who do, as far as I know.

I did believe this would be only a temporary leave of absence. As much as he believed friends held him back, Tom was misfortunate enough to truly look at me as a friend. I had been allowed to stay to the end of the day to say goodbye to everyone, in case it was the last time I saw them apparently. If I was proven to be the one who opened the chamber, it would be off to Azkaban with me. Dippet would make sure I got a life sentence.

Even so, I was sure Tom would come through. I didn't care who got it, just as long as it was enough to prove I was innocent. I hated thinking like that, but if I was going to get sent to Azkaban, then I didn't care. It could be anyone. I would just be glad to be back at Hogwarts and away from the madman that called himself my father; that I often referred to as my father just because the only other things I could think to call him were too obscene to even think of, to write down upon these pages. Any respect I ever had for him was beginning to spiral down.

If anything, this had quite a bit to do with the fact that I was beginning to suspect that my mother had died at his hand. The bloodied knife in my dream would have made sense then. The presence of the ring didn't make quite so much sense, unless it was meant to symbolize my father. I didn't know. It was after midnight, by the position of the moon, and I definitely needed sleep, even if it meant being poked awake by a curious toddler tomorrow morning. So, feet hanging over the end of the bench, I took the ice bag off of my swollen eye and closed both eyes to drift off into an uneasy sleep.

––

Much of this came in the days that followed. My father and I fighting, me spending cold nights on different benches in Great Hangleton and waking up to the faces of curious Muggles peering down at me. They all knew who I was. They all knew that I was the poor, abused son of Morfin Gaunt who had to sleep on park benches because he locked me out so often. Worse yet, they all pitied me. I couldn't stand being the subject of pity of a bunch of filthy Muggles who all thought I was underfed and mistreated and troubled. I was fine. They were the ones who were all mad.

_Them_, not me.

Though as time went by, I'm not sure of how entirely I believed that. Regardless, in my state of mind then, they were always the crazy ones. Muggles and their technology and complete lack of magic; what were they good for? Cars aside, of course. Those were brilliant. Plenty of wizards owned them. With my complete lack of skill at flying, I would probably end up being one of them. Not to mention the fact that they were just _brilliant_.

Cars aside, it was not until a week before my one month deadline that I received good news in the form of a letter closed in an envelope by the official Hogwarts seal. The moment I saw the seal, I gladly tore open the envelope as the owl that had delivered it flew out the open window of the house (my father had let me back in by then and we were simply avoiding each other to avoid any fighting). I tossed the envelope over my shoulder unthinkingly as I unfolded the letter and began reading the words that would save me from Azkaban.

_Timothy Gaunt,  
I believe it is necessary to inform you that, because  
__of recent activity with something that many within  
__Hogwarts have taken to referring as the Chamber of  
__Secrets, you will be allowed back to Hogwarts. As  
__you are not currently at Hogwarts yourself, it has  
come to my attention that you are most likely not__  
responsible for the petrifying of many of our students.__  
The culprit must be someone at the school, as no__  
magic that powerful can be done from a distance._

_You will still be watched very carefully. We are  
__examining the possibility that you may have had  
__another student at Hogwarts doing your bidding in__  
your absence. I will require your presence immediately  
__in my office upon your return to the school. Given__  
the current time, you may either return to Hogwarts__  
for the winter holidays, or you may remain at home.__  
The choice is yours. Please return your owl with an  
__answer soon. Ministry officials will escort you back to  
__Hogwarts if you wish to return for the holidays._

_Most sincerely,  
Headmaster Armando Dippet_

Had I been alone, had my father not been standing over my shoulder, I definitely would have cheered aloud. I was going to be away from that madman, and I was still allowed to head back to Hogwarts during the winter holidays. Generally, the only three Slytherins in our year left were myself, Tom, and Annabelle; everyone else had families that they actually liked. Nothing would be changed, then. Tom had come through for me, exactly as I had expected, and I'd be back at Hogwarts. The basilisk made me a bit less eager than I might have been in any other situation, but regardless, I wouldn't have to sleep outside on park benches anymore. That was definitely an upside.

"Suppose you'll be headin' back 's soon as the holidays start, then?"

I stood from the table and turned to face my father, our lines of sight level. He was a few inches taller than me, but slouched enough that the difference didn't matter. I fought the urge to ask him when apes had been taught to read. "Yes. Did you honestly expect me to stay in the same general vicinity as you for any longer than necessary?" Damn filter. If one thing didn't get through, it was another. At least this wasn't enough to set the man off.

"Not really," he said. "So," he continued, "if it inn't you, then who 's it? Ain't no other heirs to Slytherin left, 'sides the Gaunt family."

"I dunno," I lied.

"Figures," he said. "I was hopin' to ask his parents if they'd like to make a trade."

"Wish I did know, then," I replied coolly. "I'd send the owl myself."

The silence that followed was quite a long one. The ticking of the clock that hung above the fireplace across the front room went on for what felt like hours, but when I finally looked at it, I saw that only two minutes had passed. My father was the first to stand down. He walked around me to the table and sat at his regular chair.

"Sit." It wasn't a question or a suggestion. I complied instinctively and waited for him to speak, still clutching the letter to Hogwarts in my hand. Now it was a crumpled mess of paper that had taken on its new shape when my hands formed into fists in case I needed to defend myself. My father generally resorted to physical punishment before verbal reprimand, or both at once.

The look he was giving me was almost curious. "Tell me the truth on this one, son. Has a bloody thing I've taught you about _their_ kind sunk in at all?"

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm in Slytherin, aren't I?"

He waved a large hand dismissively. "Ya haven' got ter hate them ta get into Slytherin. It helps, but ya haven't _got_ ta. Now answer me. Has a word of it sunk in at all?"

"All of it has. That's why I didn't open the Chamber of Secrets. I know where it is full well. I've been blamed, even, which means that even the teachers at Hogwarts know I hate all the filth roaming the halls. But from what you taught me, they aren't even worth the space they take up, so honestly, that means they aren't worth me getting stuck in Azkaban either." Of course, before I could stop myself, I added, "I guess I'm a right side smarter than you if it only took me sixteen years to figure that out and you still haven't."

He might have considered what I said if I hadn't added that last bit. His face went red and he stood from his chair. He walked around to mine, grabbed me by the collar, and jerked me out of my chair. I didn't even flinch; I had been fully expecting it the moment the words left my mouth. A moment later, I was slammed into a nearby wall and he was yelling, swearing in my face. I only caught a few snippets of what he was saying. I caught the stench of his breath more than anything, and that _did_ make me flinch. When he calmed down enough, he let me go, still red, and spoke venomously. I recognized it instantly. Parseltongue. It happened every time he got this angry, without fail.

"_No son of mine talks to __**me**__ like I'm a common fool – I am the last man in all the wizarding world worthy of claiming the name Gaunt! The last man worthy of having Salazar Slytherin's own blood running through his veins! You will not speak to me as though I am some inferior being! Because I am willing to go to Azkaban for my beliefs, willing to fight for what I think is right in this world, I am the better man here, you're the complete idiot!"_

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor!" I said in a falsely impressed voice, grinning.

Then I ducked.

My father's fist hit the stone wall with a sickening crunch. He had no doubt shattered half of the bones in his hand. He swore loudly, howling in pain and holding onto his injured hand. I ducked around him and got a good running start for the door. I made it outside and slammed the door behind me.

Then I heard the lock click. That was the sound of another wonderful winter night on the park benches. I looked up at the sky… and then I groaned. From the looks of the clouds, it was probably going to be a wonderful, _snowy_ winter night. Frostbite…. That was a word that I didn't like the sound of one little _bit_.

Though I'm still not entirely sure how I managed it, I convinced my father through the locked door to let me back in under the condition that I wouldn't say another word for the rest of the night. It was dark by the time I entered the house again, and he was about to head off to sleep anyway, so I was in peace. A cold breeze was drifting in through the window, but shutting it would be out of the question. For whatever reason, the family owl still hadn't come home from her last nightly prowl, and she would be required if I was going to write back to Dippet soon.

It was as I was thinking this that a scroll of parchment was miraculously dropped on my head as I sat on the musty old sofa in the house. Looking up, I watched an aged, rotund, yet still impossibly energetic tawny owl land upon the fireplace in front of me and hoot in an almost triumphant manner. It was no wonder as to why when I got a look at the letter. She had apparently flown to Hogwarts and back to get this. As I began reading the letter, I stood also to go close the window.

_Timothy,  
I hate that it had to turn out like this, but it was completely  
necessary. You might disagree, but let it be known that it  
wasn't my idea to begin with, and there would have been  
absolutely no other way to convince Dippet. His mind was  
completely set on the matter, and this… it was the only way._

_And again, it was not my idea in the least bit, but I overheard  
Dippet telling Dumbledore that he was going to go back on  
his word unless  
[a line of text is scratched out beyond recognition here]  
Never mind. You will find out as soon as you return, I am  
sure of it. Dippet may have already mentioned it in his  
letter informing you that you can come back to Hogwarts,  
though I doubt that he felt the need to. _

_You need to know this in advance; if it hadn't been necessary,  
then it wouldn't have happened. I do apologize, but it had to__  
be done.  
Tom_

I had taken my seat back on the old sofa before I had finished reading the letter. I scanned over it a couple more times, amazed at what it was expressing. Was there actually a tone of fear within the letter? It certainly seemed there was. It was the first time I could remember Tom ever showing any fear towards _me_; what was I but just another of his daft followers? As I have said, he did consider me his friend, perhaps as close to being his equal as anyone would ever be in his eyes. There was no reason for him to fear me, as far as he was concerned.

That meant he must have really done it this time.

I couldn't fathom what Tom could have possibly done that made him scared of me, especially not with the good mood actually getting back into Hogwarts had put me in. It hadn't even been a month yet, but my father did one hell of a job of making the few weeks I had been at home absolutely horrid. I would probably end up heading back to Hogwarts with one of my eyes swelled shut if I spoke to him again before I left. Every word I said to him since I had convinced him I hadn't opened the Chamber of Secrets generally triggered an argument, which always triggered a fight. I wasn't practiced, so all in all, I wasn't fending very well for myself this time around.

I would definitely get my revenge when summer came around, however. It would be hard to practice with my main punching bag turned into a statue, but there had to be some way. I didn't care what it was. I didn't care if whatever it was ended up getting him put back in Azkaban somehow – in fact, that would have been quite nice for me. Then I would have my own house; I doubted he could survive another trip to Azkaban. He was growing older, weaker, and the dementors wouldn't let him last much longer.

I would indeed see all of my hopes turn to reality in my next summer break, but, once again, that is not a story for right now.


	14. Ch 13: Homicidal

_And three days later, Comma finally finishes the next chapter. AGH. I hate it when it takes me that long to write._

_Anywhozles._

_imadoodlenoodle: Thanks :) but honestly, he only has a believable family tree because I overdevelop** everything**. I started on A Gaunt Tale, developed the father's past because I was wondering how the eff Voldy could befriend anyone and how I could make it possible. The father in that story is indeed TG in this story. Then I wondered after writing a few chapters of this, hmm, how exactly **did** his mother die, and who the eff would marry Morfin Gaunt in the first place? Then I mixed that in with all my wonderings of what Grindelwald might have been doing between the time he left Godric's Hollow and when he found the Elder Wand some-odd years later (I doubt he was sitting on his butt, he had to be doing something productive, and what with all the bragging Marvolo Gaunt did over his ring he had to hear about it and think "Hey! Deathly Hallow! Dude, awesome!" ... though not in quite that context, probably), and mixed both of those in with a plot bunny I had of "what if that snake that Morfin Gaunt had in the scene in book 6 was actually an animagus?" Love them bunnies. And everything just kept developing into back stories. I'm already working on a sequel to this that'll take place durring the summer after Timothy's sixth year, and I haven't even finished this story yet. So yeah... I overdevelop too much :P_

_**Disclaimymabobber**: No owns. For the last time. I own nothing. Really. I promise._

_**Warnings**: OC Abuse (which is a fancy way of saying "I'm so cruel to my characters")_

_**Quick Quotes Quill**: "Yeah, some great threat to the wizarding world **you're** going to be, Voldy."__  
The glare I received for that did nothing more than further my amusement. "Gaunt, for the **last** bloody time –"  
"All right, all **right**, I swear on pain of death that I will not call you Voldy again."_

* * *

The first thing that occurred when I found myself back in Hogwarts was that I was rushed away by my head of house to see Headmaster Dippet. Malfoy didn't offer any of his usual snide remarks, and that was my first sign that something was wrong. I even tried provoking him. I asked him the inevitable "Did you miss your favorite student?" question, but it was with no results. He merely shot a glance at me over his shoulder as I followed him. It wasn't a glare, just a glance.

The next sign was Dippet himself. This was the first time this year that he and I had been in his office, alone, without any other teachers. He wasn't his normal strict-yet-feeble self, either, not this time. I noticed that he looked paler, perhaps even more feeble than usual, and utterly stressed. He looked at me almost pityingly as he addressed me.

"Timothy, in light of the most recent attack that has occurred within the school, you are indeed cleared of suspicion. It will still be required that you have an eye kept on you, but even I doubt that you are the

'Heir of Slytherin' that is committing such atrocities amongst the student body of Hogwarts." He observed my reaction, and then frowned when I offered no response. "I do assume that someone has informed you of it?"

I shook my head slowly. "Care to enlighten me, sir?"

Even my sarcasm didn't faze him, and his somber expression remained. "I admit that I lied about my intentions of letting you back into Hogwarts. A total of four attacks have occurred since you were expelled – albeit temporarily. All petrified. I had decided that unless one of a select few was petrified, you would not be allowed back within the school. If one of them was, you would be, and all suspicion removed."

He paused as though waiting for some sort of reaction from me. I, however, was still entirely lost, though I had a strange feeling I really shouldn't have been. Whatever it was, was staring me straight in the face and I was failing to see any of it. This was no doubt what Tom had sent me a letter regarding, and I felt a bit thick for not catching on like Dippet seemed to think I should be doing. I continued staring at him, bemused, as I waited for him to finish.

"The first attack was a Gryffindor first year, a Muggleborn by the name of Sarah Burne. She was found on the seventh floor. Then there was a Hufflepuff seventh year, a pureblood called Harold Bones, whose family would be recognized by some as 'blood traitors'. The third and fourth were what redeemed you most of all.

"It was my suspicion that you might ask someone in the castle to continue the work for you when you left if you were indeed the so-called Heir of Slytherin, and I had one theory of who it would be. That one person was petrified. I would have suspected you had asked this student to do it to themselves, suspecting my plan, and I waited to see if another student would be attacked. I was almost certain none would be. Then third year Ravenclaw Marcy Allen was found in a bathroom, and I could think of no one else you would have entrusted with the task who might have accepted it." So of course, he hadn't considered Tom at all.

"Who did you believe I would have trusted?"

"First and foremost," he said, and I could see he was finally getting to his point, not skirting around it in fear, "I suspected you would have entrusted the task to Annabelle Potts."

I could see why he had been skirting around the subject. While I may have felt surprise for a moment, what I felt after that made me have to clench my hands into fists around the arms of my chair to stop myself from upturning Dippet's desk and telling him off just on general principle, just to blow off the steam that was rising up from my blood as it began to boil. So this was what Tom had done…. My fists clenched a bit more; it took some amount of force for me to loosen my grip slightly as I heard the arms of the chair give groans of protest. I kept my eyes pointed off to the side, away from Dippet, and spoke as levelly as I could.

"And I'll still be watched closely after this," I said slowly. "Why?"

"It is only a precaution. The governing board seems to think it is necessary, given your heritage." Dippet was speaking very cautiously now. "Also being that you were the only suspect in the attacks since they began –"

"Then continuing to watch me won't get you anywhere, will it? Look for other possibilities. Watching me is going to hold the search back."

"This isn't my decision to make," he said apologetically, though his regular tone of impatience that he usually took when speaking with me was beginning to find its way back into his voice. "If the governing board still sees you as a threat, then you will be viewed as such."

I nodded. "Right. The fact that at least one Muggleborn generally dies every time the Chamber of Secrets is opened is no big deal, of course. It's more important to keep watch on someone who didn't do it just out of bias towards them."

"I can understand fully why you think this seems unjust, but –"

"But you can't do anything about it unless the governing board says otherwise," I finished for him, looking at him finally. "I know. You've mentioned that a couple of times."

Dippet gave a weary sigh. "I do sincerely apologize for how this all turned out. It was a horrible mistake on my part."

"No kidding…" I grumbled sardonically.

Either he didn't hear me or he chose to pretend he hadn't. "You may head to your common room if you wish. I am sure you need to unpack your things."

I gladly stood from my chair and headed for the door, resolving not to turn back even if Dippet called after me for something. He didn't, and I left, slamming the door shut behind me.

As I suppose I should have suspected, Tom was nowhere to be found when I made it to the Slytherin common room. It was the day before winter holidays, and therefore everyone was still here, packing their things to go home and spend Christmas with their families. Many were merely sitting around the common room. Their attitudes toward me seemed to have changed since I had left.

The glares that rested upon me when I entered the common room were Gryffindor worthy.

I was careful about crossing to the stairs that led up to the boys' dormitories, as though crossing a field laden with mines that could go off beneath my feet at any moment. They were either disappointed that I wasn't the heir, or disappointed that I was and had sent one of my own house to the hospital wing as a statue just for the sake of avoiding suspicion. Both assumptions were wrong, but none of them could have known that. None of them would have believed me if I told them. They didn't believe me when I told them that I wasn't the heir that had opened the Chamber, and they wouldn't believe me if I told them the same thing again, that I hadn't – that I _never_ would have done _this_.

The sixth year dormitories were empty, everyone else that was leaving already packed and downstairs. Tom was an exception to this. He wasn't downstairs, he wasn't here, and I didn't know nor care where he was. I also didn't particularly feel like unpacking my things, though I did give the trunk at the foot of my bed a good kick before falling onto the mattress. Soon enough, I was sitting on the bed cross-legged and glaring at that same old patch of stone wall. I was home again, and the home was just as horrible as it had been for most of this year. I might have been better off staying with my father.

I flinched even as I thought of _that_ and immediately disagreed with myself. Being that I could still only see out of one eye – which meant my depth perception was gone and I had already done a fair bit of tripping and walking into things like a drunken fool – I would be better off here at Hogwarts. I didn't need my other eye swollen shut, and that was all that would happen if I went back to him.

Still, the wall, the stupid, brainless patch of granite or rock or whatever the bloody hell else it was. I didn't know and I didn't care. The knuckles of my left hand were already broken, so attempting to punch a hole through it (and most likely failing) would hurt rather much. My right hand was required for schoolwork, so I had to be a bit more careful with it. Nothing to take any sort of anger out on. I was here alone.

I supposed that, for that instance, alone was good. If Tom was here, I would have been more than happy to kill him for letting this happen. I definitely would have rather stayed home than come back to school to find out that my redemption had been because of _this_. Perhaps it would be better if I was left alone to seethe. Maybe I would calm down enough to only injure him by the time he drew up enough courage to face me. He had good reason to show fear in that letter, was right in assuming that his life was most definitely in danger.

I looked up five minutes later when the door into the sixth year dormitories opened. My alone time was ended by the very person that my thoughts (homicidal though they were) had been revolving around during said alone time. Tom stopped at the door as soon as he saw me, looking surprised. I didn't really look over more than to glance, so I couldn't see if there was fear beyond the surprise, or if he was confident that I would be able to control myself now.

"You're back."

"That's awfully perceptive of you," I said through gritted teeth, narrowing my eyes at my patch of wall. I watched out of the corner of one eye as Tom crossed the room over to his own bed, until he was out of my line of sight entirely. "I did get your letter, by the way. Found out exactly what it meant as well."

"Did you?"

"Yes, from Dippet. Apparently, you discovered his intentions and sent your pet snake after Annabelle." I turned to sit sideways on my bed and look over at Tom. He was now sitting across the room on his own bed, flipping through a book disinterestedly. "Care to explain?"

"I did mention in the letter that it was not my idea in the least," he said, voice completely toneless. "In fact, Annabelle took it upon herself to spy on Dumbledore and Dippet to figure out exactly why they hadn't let you back in the school after the second attack. I had planned to myself, but I found the invisibility cloak to be missing. She had already taken it and gone herself."

"Without anyone suggesting that she do so?"

"I hadn't said a word even of my own intentions, so no," Tom said. "When she told me Dippet's idea – that you would not be let back into the school unless she was the subject of an attack – and then told me her own idea – to make her the subject of an attack as it was the only way – I disagreed. I'm not an idiot. I know how dangerous the Basilisk is."

"And then you changed your mind."

"Only after she described, in a detailed manner, exactly how she was planning to kill me if I didn't."

"So, getting this straight," I said, slightly amused in spite of myself – I didn't _want_ to be amused, but the situation called for it – "you're not afraid of a Basilisk – or of how _I'm_ planning to kill you, for that matter – but a five-foot-one, ninety pound girl does." I scoffed. "Yeah, some great threat to the wizarding world _you're_ going to be, Voldy."

The glare I received for that did nothing more than further my amusement. "Gaunt, for the _last_ bloody time –"

"All right, all _right_, I swear on pain of death that I will not call you Voldy again. But honestly," I continued, "I figured you would have just Imperiused her into not killing you if you saw her as that great of a threat."

"You think that idea didn't cross my mind?" He still sounded irritated. "I tried – as a matter of fact, she told me to try it."

My brow furrowed. "And she blocked it out?" I asked, slightly alarmed. "She'd have to know –"

"Occlumency," Tom finished for me. "And she knows Legilimency as well."

"How?"

"She's been borrowing your books on the subject for quite some time, apparently. Since last year, I believe she said. And without you knowing, judging by the look on your face. She hasn't completely mastered them yet, but she knows Occlumency well enough to completely avoid the effects of any Imperius Curse that I could cast. You, I'm not sure."

"And never will be because I would never use the Imperius Curse on her for any reason. You, on the other hand, might want to keep your guard up unless you fancy being Imperiused into jumping off of the top of the Astronomy tower."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he said in annoyance, though I noticed a slight flinch. Tom detested anyone being more powerful than him in any area of magic. One of his strongest powers to this day is Legilimency, and I'm still better at it, and I can tell that it still angers him to no end. The student has yet to pass the teacher.

"Now," I said, coming back to the subject at hand before it could get too far away. "Annabelle. Why didn't you inform me of her plans before you helped her with them?"

"That was yet another demand she made," Tom said. "She figured if we told you, you would disagree with it and say you'd rather be expelled permanently than take a risk like that or something to that extent, and tell her not to do it. She knew she wouldn't go against you if you told her not to do it, and decided it would be better if she just didn't tell you."

I eyed Tom suspiciously at this, truly wishing that I had some means of obtaining Veritaserum. I would question him again if I could get a vial of it, but it was nearly impossible. That would require Slughorn's cooperation and he would definitely need to know why I needed it. Oh, you see, sir, I helped Tom open the Chamber of Secrets. Now he's gone and petrified my girlfriend while I was away and I want to find out exactly what happened to cause it. No big deal, I just completely fooled both you and Dumbledore about the whole Chamber ordeal is all.

I had a strange feeling that _that_ conversation wouldn't go over particularly well.

"No, it probably wouldn't," Tom agreed, rolling his eyes.

"Oi, you weren't supposed to be listening to that!"

"I wasn't trying to. Honestly, you broadcast the most arbitrary thoughts. And I suppose I can't blame you for not believing me."

"That's good, being that you have been carefully blocking all of your thoughts since you walked in the room," I said.

"That has nothing to do with you," he assured me. I looked at him skeptically. "I'm dead serious. And you'll want to start keeping your guard up as often as possible as well. It seems Dumbledore has become more suspicious since your… temporary expulsion, I suppose you could call it. I would guess it was because of your employment of Occlumency, and that he is suspicious that you know who opened the Chamber and don't want to incriminate them more than anything else."

"Hence why he's targeting you."

"Dumbledore has never trusted me, and it seems he always has trusted you to some extent," Tom said. "I suppose it's because you're more predictable."

"That's nice…"

"I'm being serious. You act as you feel towards Mudbloods. I don't, but he has a suspicion of how I think of their kind from the first time I met him. Despite the fact that I did behave myself when I got here, he was always suspicious. This is part of the reason I have built my good reputation up over the years, so I could open the Chamber of Secrets and not have to worry about anyone pointing the finger at me. I never really suspected Dumbledore's paranoia of me went quite this far."

"Well, he _does_ have a right to be paranoid," I said. "You are sort of looking to rid the world of all bad blood."

"But there isn't any way he could know that for a fact."

I shrugged. "Where've you put her invisibility cloak now, by the way?"

"Under the mattress," he said, his voice vague and distracted. I took it as incentive to leave him alone for now. Some revenge would be had for this, for what he had let happen here.

I was left wondering quite a few things – at least until the ingredients were ready to make a potion to heal the near victims of the Basilisk. I didn't know just how serious Annabelle was about threatening to kill Tom, or even if she _had_. How she had managed to steal by books on Legilimency and Occlumency was completely beyond me – I kept them in my trunk at the foot of my bed, locked up, and the only time they see daylight is if I decide to retrieve one to flip through. I also wondered just how well she had learned them; both were quite far from remotely easy subjects, and one year of practice generally didn't get anyone far enough to block even the most feeble Imperius Curse. And from that, my mind clicked to another question entirely.

Did those victims, lying in the hospital wing and looking as much like statues as they possibly could, have any distinguishable train of thought? I glanced at Tom, who was still flipping disinterestedly through a book he had most likely read hundreds of times before. Then I hadn't been thinking loudly, that was good to know. I would have to get the invisibility cloak later, somehow.

And then, perhaps I would discover whether Tom's story had truth behind it a bit sooner than expected.

* * *

_Oh how I do love cliffhangers._

_I don't know exactly how much is left to this story - I've got to find my Chamber of Secrets book and remember **exactly** when the school almost got closed and Riddle framed Hagrid to know that. I know where the book is, so no need to worry. In fact, I have more than one copy of it. I've got an entire shed full of HP merchendise that's set up like a shop with shelving and everything. We call it Hogwarts. It's beautiful._

_Incidentally, all my Stephen King books are also in there. They all seem to be getting along fine, so no worries.  
_


	15. Ch 14: Betrayal

_OMG COMMA FINISHED A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!_

_-has a heart attack in surprise and subsequently returns as a ghost and blames Kira-_

_Yes, I am surprised with myself. My writer's block seems to finally be subsiding, partially helped by the fact that I'm reading the sixth Harry Potter book again and getting all kinds of wonderful ideas for this story, which revived my will to write in general._

_I also got a good many reviews in my too-long-absence. Would like to **reply** to them._

_ThreeBooksInTheFire: Replied in a PM, I think. Right? I have a short memory. If not, like I said, she's not dead. She and Tom planned it out - we don't know exactly how just yet, of course, but it will be explained.  
_

_Parvati48: Loads of thanks for all the reviews, my HP stories are particularly unpopular and I really appreciated it. Not sure I can reply to everything, but I can reply to what you asked about Annabelle easily enough.  
Her name was completely random. I knew she was a Potter, but as far as her first and middle name, and her preferred alias, that was completely random.  
As for her family history, it was slightly mentioned in **Serpentine**, but it takes a good bit to infer that. It was just sort of a cameo of the Potters toward the end of Chapter 4:  
- _The house-elf looked down at the tiny bottle in its hand, seeming to debate over what to do. "Lindus does know that Master Brooks's daughter Belinda lives in Britain…" he said slowly. "He could tell her Master Brooks died of old age. Mistress Belinda is due to be married soon to Marcus Potter,"..._  
So Belinda Brooks and Marcus Potter are Annabelle's parents. Then, at the very end - and unless you're me, you probably wouldn't have gotten this:  
_- He caught a bit of conversation from a nearby family with a young girl and an older boy.  
"Now, what house are you going to be sorted into, Annie?"  
"_Dad_, why do you have to keep _asking_ me that? And _don't_ call me Annie, it's a little girl's name…."  
"Oh, leave her alone, Mark, she'll be sorted into whatever house she's sorted into," said her mother, sounding slightly amused.  
"Bet she's in Hufflepuff," said the older boy.  
"Oh, just because you're in you're last year doesn't mean you –"  
"You might just be daft enough to be put th–"  
"Adam!"  
"Sorry, Mum…"_  
That would be the same family. So, "Mark" would be Marcus Potter, the mother therefore Belinda. Annie is Annabelle - Anna Belinda Potter, Belinda for her mother. Then who's Adam? Another minor OC I made up, Annabelle's older brother who is a more direct ancestor of Harry than Annabelle. He's James's father and Harry's grandfather, specifically. That would make Annabelle Harry's great-aunt, of course.  
I tend to plan out my major OC's histories in a slightly obsessive manner, particularly for Harry Potter stories, as is evident here. Then I give random cryptic hints about it to see who can work them together.__ I'm just psychotic like that xP_

_Now, onward with the story stuff!_

_**Disco-claimer**: I do not own disco, nor do I want to. I also do not own the Harry Potter series, despite how awesome I think that would be.  
**Warnings**: In this chapter, we will see signs of just how specifically Murphy's law applies to Timothy, and also signs that, through everything, true friendship isn't an easy thing to rid oneself of. Can be as much of a blessing as a nuissance.  
**Quick Quotes Quill**: _  
_With a relieved sigh, I stowed my wand away and started forward._

_Then a hand landed on my shoulder to stop me._

_Had it not been for that hand holding me in place, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have ended up with my head going through the rather high ceiling from jumping so badly. I was much too afraid to glance over my shoulder as the hand that had just caught me left it. Though I was certain the Basilisk didn't have hands and that I therefore did not risk being killed, I knew that depending on who had found me, I could be facing a fate much worse than death. Therefore, I had no interest in knowing who this was. Strangely, I was reminded of my recurring dream. For all I knew, it could indeed be the hand of Death himself resting on my shoulder. At that thought, I flinched._

_"Out for a midnight stroll, are we, Gaunt?"_

_I flinched more at that. Death definitely would have been a kinder entity to face in this situation._

* * *

In one of my amazing stokes of utter _genius_, I somehow managed to forget the invisibility cloak when I set out for the hospital wing in the night. Naturally, this meant that there were a number of things bound and determined to go wrong that night. That was just a fact of life for me.

This was the first night that teachers had been selected, as well as a few "trustworthy" students who weren't prefects (most of whom were Gryffindors, no huge surprise there), to help patrol the school. This meant that it was far better protected than usual, which meant that I was going to have to be very careful. I was out of the dungeons and hiding from a number of prefects in the Entrance Hall alone before I realized I had forgotten the cloak. Turning back at that point would have gotten me caught. My only choice was to move forward, grumbling about my own stupidity all the way.

As I did just that, I tried hard to ignore a low hissing I kept hearing within the walls that almost definitely bode ill for me.

I was honestly surprised that I made it as far as the first floor corridor that the hospital wing was located on. I could see the double doors from where I stood around the edge of the corridor, exactly where I needed to be. It was unfortunate for me that I could also see someone pacing up and down that very hall. After coming this far, giving up and going back for such a tiny reason seemed a foolish thing to do. It didn't make it any better that it was a Gryffindor prefect, namely Harold Sloper. I didn't know Sloper at all, but all Gryffindors had the same opinion of me lately, so that didn't matter. They were obviously looking for any reason to get me into trouble, and I wasn't about to give them a reason. I had learned once already what being expelled meant for me, and I definitely didn't want that happening again.

I gave one glance up and down the hall before coming to a conclusion on what to do. It was rash and there was every chance that it might get me seen, but it seemed to me to be the only other option without use of an invisibility cloak.

"Sorry about this, Sloper," I said quietly as I withdrew my wand and stood back against the wall.

I flinched slightly as a low, hissing voice that seemed closer than before proclaimed that it smelled blood. That was a little harder to ignore. Nevertheless, I cautiously glanced around the corner of the wall and into the corridor to see just where he was. His back was to me. Now was the best time. I wasn't brilliant at nonverbal spells, but not many sixth years I knew of were – not to count Annabelle, who could do nearly any kind of spellwork with no problem at all. I couldn't deny that it made me a bit jealous.

There was no point pondering it now. I had to put my practice to work. So, I carefully stepped around the corner and, with a half-hopeful, half-determined thought of the incantation '_stupefy,'_ I raised my want. Though surprised, I was quite satisfied when the spiral of red sparks hit Sloper squarely in the middle of his back and he fell forward without a sound. With a relieved sigh, I stowed my wand away and started forward.

Then a hand landed on my shoulder to stop me.

Had it not been for that hand holding me in place, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have ended up with my head going through the rather high ceiling from jumping so badly. I was much too afraid to glance over my shoulder as the hand that had just caught me left it. Though I was certain the Basilisk didn't have hands and that I therefore did not risk being killed, I knew that depending on who had found me, I could be facing a fate much worse than death. Therefore, I had no interest in knowing who this was. Strangely, I was reminded of my recurring dream. For all I knew, it could indeed be the hand of Death himself resting on my shoulder. At that thought, I flinched.

"Out for a midnight stroll, are we, Gaunt?"

I flinched more at that. Death definitely would have been a kinder entity to face in this situation.

"And having a bit of fun stunning Gryffindor prefects while you're at it, I see." Even the Basilisk would have been better. "Trying to sneak about without being noticed – you _do_ realize the extra protection that has been placed on the school? It wouldn't surprise me to find a student petrified somewhere in the castle tonight now. Of course, it is a bit odd to find you _here_. Come to pay a visit to your latest victims, maybe?"

It would be a little hard to explain it away when someone _did_ turn up petrified tonight – the Basilisk was still proclaiming that it was going to rip and tear someone as it made its journey within the walls.

"Well, Gaunt?" Abraxas Malfoy's sly and calculating voice spoke again from behind me. "Care to make an attempt at explaining this?"

I turned around to face him fully and reply. "I was trying to get to the hospital wing. Sloper was guarding it; this was my only option." That wasn't a lie at all. _He_ would obviously think it was, or that I wasn't giving enough details for it to be a proper explanation.

"And why did you want to get to the hospital wing?"

"Can't exactly go in daylight hours, can I?" I said, choosing my tone carefully. This was one situation where even _I_ wouldn't backtalk Malfoy, and that was saying quite a lot. "The Gryffindors hate me enough already as it is, they'd consider my presence to be sacrilege or something."

"I will repeat my question, Gaunt. Why do you want to get into the hospital wing? All you have answered is why you have not gone during the day."

I gulped inaudibly, still sorting through the words in my mind. The lack of any kind of filter between what was serious and what was sarcastic made the task a bit harder for me than it might be for the average person. "I would think that after the most recent victim was found, sir, that you might find me to be a little less suspicious."

"And I might have until I found you wandering around the castle in the middle of the night. I will give you one last chance to answer my question."

"I would think that was a good enough answer," I said quietly, my fists now clenched. "Maybe not direct, but it should have answered your question. I have nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets. I – like any other person who crowds to the hospital wing during the day – just wish to visit someone. However, I can't go during the day because I would likely be hexed and end up being a patient myself rather than just a guest."

After a moment of silence, Malfoy responded in a rather annoyed voice, "It bothers me that I actually believe you."

I blinked a few times, disbelievingly. "That is slightly troubling," I agreed. Malfoy wasn't supposed to believe a word that came out of my mouth. That completely and utterly defied all laws of nature.

"Indeed. Unfortunately, due to your lack of stealth, I have found you and cannot ignore this blatant breaking of the school rules to meet your own desires. I will have to take fifty points from Slytherin house for your being out of bed after hours, and another twenty for your disabling a prefect in the process. You would do best to make your way back to the Slytherin common room before I find any further reason to deduct points from my own house. Now go. And don't get yourself caught again on the way; Slytherin has lost more than enough of the progress it made during your absence in less than five minutes."

I agreed to leave quickly, still too shocked that Malfoy had actually _believed_ something that_ I_ had said to be able to protest. I wasn't too shocked to avoid various prefects and teachers on the way down to the dungeons, however, nor was I too shocked to ignore the fact that the Basilisk definitely still had quite a good nose for blood.

Ducking around corners every time I caught a glance of a shadow moving nearby, I made my way back to the dungeons. Sneaking around prefects was something I had grown quite good at over the years, as I hadn't had access to an invisibility cloak until a year ago. Given that I had indeed been discovered by a teacher, it was obvious that my skill had begun to rust a bit. I had been preoccupied with where I was going, and therefore had paid no attention to what was already behind me. The increase in security as of lately was really no excuse for me. It was with shame and annoyance that I told the usual blank patch of wall in the dungeons the password and entered the Slytherin common room.

I immediately heard sniggering in my head that didn't belong to me. Rolling my eyes, I made my way over to the sofa in the common room and fell down upon it. Soon, the laughter invading my mind was accompanied by a voice.

"_How the bloody hell do you manage to forget the invisibility cloak until you're already out of the dungeons?"_

_Oh, shut up,_ was my response to Tom. _I've been a bit distracted today. You know, between finding out my girlfriend was one of the latest Basilisk victims and trying not to get killed by everyone in the school?_

"_You would figure they would lay off a bit after this,"_ he agreed. _"Of course, considering you're something of a spokesperson for Murphy's law, that would be too easy."_

_I'd like to punch that Murphy bloke. I think he pointed Malfoy in my direction._

"_Well, at least he's somewhat more on your side now. And Dippet."_

_Yeah – wait, how d'you know that?_

Tom was silent for a moment, but I still sensed some incredulity in my mind that didn't belong to me. It didn't strike me just how stupid a question it had been until after it had already been posed. _"Well," Tom replied, "we're only having a conversation by means of Legilimency, so I guess it makes absolutely __**no**__ sense for me to know what's inside your head."_

_Oh, sod off. We've already established that the little common sense I might have has completely failed me tonight._

"_That's obvious. But it was also to remind you to keep your block up a little better. Might I remind you of what I said earlier regarding Dumbledore? He's getting suspicious."_

_Of you, not of me._

"_That doesn't matter! If he suspects you know something, then you've got to be careful as well. As it is, he still doesn't suspect you – it's me he's out to get, but he believes you know that I'm connected to the Chamber."_

_Well, he is right to suspect that,_ I pointed out.

"_I'm aware of that."_ It was easy to tell he was getting impatient. _"That's why I don't want him finding out anything."_

_What're we going to do when the Basilisk kills someone? The school would be closed, and you've said yourself that you don't even have __**complete**__ control of the thing. I don't think anyone could._

"_I'm working on that, and you should be as well. Not only would I end up going back to that bloody orphanage, you'd also be stuck with your father until you turned seventeen."_ He was getting more impatient yet. If it was possible to get punched in the mind, then I had a feeling Tom was probably trying to work out how it could be done. I definitely thought it sounded rather painful. I was being a bit of a pest, but that was all well justified, I thought. Until I thought of something more creative, this was the best I could do for revenge.

* * *

I knew I wasn't bound to get away from this without a questioning as to why I had gone off after dark in the first place, and I didn't. However, it wasn't until the next day, the start of winter holidays, that I received said questioning. It was on the way up to the Great Hall at around breakfast. Tom was more or less toneless about the entire thing, and I more or less lied my entire way through it. I hadn't been so completely careless as to have left every part of my mind unblocked the previous night. Tom might have known that I had every intention of going to the hospital wing, but he didn't know what I intended to do there.

It was a sign of our friendship that he didn't suspect that my intentions were to incriminate him – and strange as it is, I have not lied once in saying that Tom did indeed consider me a friend rather than a follower. I even went as far as to break past the barriers he had set up within his mind to determine this – undetected, of course. No matter what way anyone looked at it, I had had a head start in Legilimency and was therefore still ahead in it. Stealth was one thing that developed more the longer it was practiced.

On the contrary, it was a sign of my slowly growing disloyalty that I did, subconsciously, hope that I would find out _something_ that would incriminate him. I hoped that Legilimency could be successfully employed on the petrified victims of the Basilisk, and that I could view the conversation Annabelle and Tom had that resulted in her becoming a statue and me coming back to Hogwarts. More than anything, I wanted to find something in that conversation – _anything_ at all, that proved that this was entirely Tom's fault. It might have been a betrayal of the trust that Tom held in me. It wasn't as though I cared at the time. As far as I was concerned, it was entirely _his_ fault that_ she_ was in the hospital wing, merely a statue with a soul trapped within. This was the true start of my secret resentment towards Tom Riddle. I say secret, as, until very recently, he hadn't known of just how far I have gone to betray him, to keep him from some of his greatest goals. He still doesn't know of all of the betrayal. Once again, a story for another time.

Admittedly, my idea of using Legilimency on someone that had been petrified was a bit of a stretch. It was hard to keep reminding myself that I had no idea whether or not it would work, and that I might perhaps have to wait until Professor Beery finished raising this year's cropping of mandrakes, until Slughorn made the restorative potion that would cure the victims. I was so determined to get the truth that I kept forgetting that there was every chance my plan to actually get it might fall through. Maybe it was a trick of my subconscious mind, forcing me not to think such pessimistic thoughts in my determination. I didn't know then, I don't know now, and there is little point in dwelling on it.

"Y'know," I said to Tom as we entered a near empty Great Hall, "I think there's actually a rather easy way to keep Dumbledore from finding anything out."

"And what would that be?" He sounded rather skeptical. I didn't blame him, of course. I was still half asleep, meaning that I was even more lacking of common sense than usual. It was mostly my fault, being that I had been out so late the previous night. The little sleep I had gotten, however, had marked yet another occurrence of my subconscious mind's favorite nightmare, so even it hadn't been peaceful. This was enough reason, I thought, to justice why I walked into the Slytherin table when we reached it and nearly fell over it.

I continued with my ponderings anyway. "We could start thinking in Parseltongue."

"Is that possible?"

"Dunno," I admitted. "Haven't tried yet. I suppose if you close your eyes and picture a snake, then maybe. Got to admit, it would work, though."

"I doubt it would," Tom said, sounding somewhat amused as I again nearly fell over the Slytherin table in an attempt to sit down that didn't work so well. "Our first language is English, so even when thinking in Parseltongue, the thoughts would be lying merely a layer below the Parseltongue in English."

"So use Occlumency in between the two layers," I said reasonably.

"If we're going to be using Occlumency in the first place, that completely defeats your idea of thinking in Parseltongue," Tom pointed out. I shrugged. "It's just an extra effort that would be entirely unnecessary. Dumbledore will already be suspicious as to why we're constantly keeping up a shield anyway. He'd just get more suspicious if we started thinking in another language."

"Would Spanish work?"

"Same principle as Parseltongue. And you don't even know Spanish."

"Not really any point in learning it, either. I'm already unintentionally bilingual, that's good enough for me. Granted most snakes aren't all that great for conversation…" Tom rolled his eyes and took advantage of a momentary silence to change the subject.

"Do you have any idea what a Horcrux is?" I looked at Tom with a raised eyebrow. "Obviously not," he answered his own question.

"What is it?" I asked. "Aside from something out of another book you obviously snuck out of the restricted section."

"That's the only place where there's anything interesting. Books shouldn't be made restricted, it's ridiculous. Whatever Horcruxes are, apparently the publishers saw fit to censor them out, I'm guessing since it's a fairly new edition." He opened his bag, which sat on the bench next to him. It was normal that he keep it with him during holidays, with as much as he read. When it wasn't laden with school books, it generally was with library books, and generally ones from the restricted section that he hadn't had any permission to retrieve. As a well trusted prefect, he generally volunteered to keep patrol at night in the library whenever he ran out of reading material. He had never been caught, but even if he was, he could probably talk his way out of it.

Unless he was caught by Dumbledore, of course. That would be the only situation in which there would be trouble for him.

Tom set large, old-looking book on the table. I looked at it with raised eyebrows as a small cloud of dust rose up around it. "New edition, is it?"

"Considering the first edition ever was published fairly early in the Middle Ages, I'd say yes. This one was only published about a century ago." He opened it rather carefully and flipped to the introduction. "It mentions it here," he said, pointing to something. "'Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction.' It's mentioned later in the book, but it gives the impression that a good bit of text was cut out, since all it is, is a mention." He shut it just as carefully.

"What exactly does it say?" I asked, sliding the book over to examine its cover. Its black leather cover was slightly scratched and torn from years of wear, and it was emblazoned with scratched silver leaf, reading _Magick Moste Evile._ I started to open the book.

"Careful opening it, it startles easily." That only made me curious as to how a book could startle. I opened it carelessly to about the middle, allowing the front cover to thump in a muffled manner against the table. It let out an eerie wail that luckily was only loud enough to be heard by anyone sitting near where we were at the Slytherin table. What was lucky about that was that, because of my reputation's recent descent into oblivion, no one was sitting anywhere near us. I blinked a few times at the book. "A lot of old books get like that. You really don't read much at all, do you?"

"I don't think I need to answer that," I said, flipping (now much more carefully) through the pages of the book, not really taking anything in at all.

"Not really," Tom agreed. "Like I said, it more or less only mentioned Horcruxes. It said that they were the closest means of any magic to immortality, moreso than even unicorn blood, apparently, but that the magic required to create them is so gruesome that few wizards through all of history have ever even thought of creating one."

"Doesn't even give a clue as to how?"

"No," Tom said irately, glaring down at the book. "Can't exactly ask any of the teachers here. They all trust me enough, but asking something like that would probably change some of their opinions."

"Merrythought would know most about something like that, I'd wager, but asking the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher about the 'wickedest of magical inventions' almost definitely wouldn't go over well. Dippet might even be confused if his favorite student started asking about gruesome ways to immortality." I ignored the fact that Tom rolled his eyes at this and continued. "What teacher would you say probably trusts you the most?"

"Probably Slughorn." We had both already known the answer to that.

"So ask him," I said through a yawn. "Come up with something. Tell him you're writing a paper on them for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Won't do – the subject's apparently been banned at Hogwarts for some time." Tom smiled wryly. "_Dumbledore_ helped with that, of course. If I said I was doing a project on them, I'd only be advised to stop because of that."

"You saw it in a book, then," I said. "You wouldn't be lying, just don't say that it's a book you found in the restricted section. Though I doubt you'd find anything about them in Flourish and Blotts, either, so it would still seem like you had to have gotten it at Knockturn Alley or something."

"I could just not mention where I got the book," Tom pointed out.

"Unless Slughorn asks," I countered. "Say you borrowed it from Orion Black. I don't really like him, so it won't be a huge deal if he gets expelled or anything. Of course, if it's Slughorn we've decided on, then he probably won't ask. Being a good student helps sometimes."

"Who'd have thought being in that ridiculous club would actually have its advantages."

"Me. It's gotten me out of detention more times than I can count. That's what _I_ call an advantage."

It was that moment in time that Professor Merrythought chose to burst into the Great Hall, looking quite disconcerted and pale, and hurry up to the staff table to speak to Dippet. As he spoke, Dippet's eyes flashed down towards the Slytherin table – towards me, particularly. I had forgotten about the Basilisk's midnight conversation with itself over the smell of blood. This caused me to suddenly remember it quite suddenly. That probably meant –

"Another attack," Tom finished my thought, looking up towards the staff table. "Merrythought found him in the Charms corridor on his way down." Ah, the wonders of Legilimency. "Night before the students heading home for winter holidays were due to board the train. Would be interesting if it was someone who was supposed to be heading home."

I thought to myself, with slightly raised eyebrows, that Tom had a rather bizarre definition of the word "interesting." It wasn't as though this surprised me. I had known Tom for more than five years. Not much surprised me anymore.

* * *

_Ah-hah-hah! I made a connection between Tales of Beedle the Bard and HBP that I doubt anyone else made unless they're as obsessive as me!!!_

_You see, Hermione finds a mention of Horcruxes in one book in all of the restricted section._

_That book is called "Magick Moste Evile."_

_That same book is mentioned in Beedle's lovely tales, in one of Dumbledore's notes. I figured out it would have been published pretty early in the middle ages because Dumbledore said that "in the early middle ages" (which could have been any time between 600 and 1000 AD) Emeric the Evil was in possession of the Elder Wand of the Tale of the Three Brothers. Then in the next paragraph, he said that "A full century later," a dark wizard called Godelot came in possession of the wand, who said that the wand knew of "majick moste evile," which became the title of Godelot's master work._

_Now, I figure that even if Emeric lived in the tenth century (after 900 AD), it would have been only in the eleventh that Godelot lived, which still basically qualifies as pretty early on in the Middle Ages._

_Go me and my connection-making skills!_

_-cheers for self-_

_So, I successfully resolved nothing in this chapter. I blame Abraxas Malfoy (as does Timothy, I'm sure). I did give needed information, though. Malfoy now somewhat is on Timothy's side, and this is the start of Timothy's secret rebellion against Voldy, which will be extremely important in sequels to this. It also set the scene for Voldy's asking of Slughorn about Horcruxes. Yay slightly-altered canon (slightly because Voldy doesn't have his grandpa's ring)! So, this chapter wasn't random. There are some very very important things in it. I promise. Really. I've got this all planned out, so don't worry._

_Aye, I would also like to make an advertisement (even though no one reads this story =/) for a K-On! fic my friend **Sparanda** is writing._

_If anyone reads/watches K-On! and thinks that the nonstop yuri in most K-On! fics is retarded, then you will want to read this story, because no yuri is present (which is awesome). It's called **Brand New Page**. Being that I betaread it, I can vouch for the fact that it is indeed a very good fic._

_Now, go read it. And leave reviews.  
_


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